


His Butler, Missing Communications

by Justine_Harker



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Blood, Exploration, First Time, Kissing, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 34,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2608886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justine_Harker/pseuds/Justine_Harker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's eight years since the murder of his parents. Watchdog for the Queen, Ciel Phantomhive investigates a string of post robberies that result in missing communications from Her Majesty. It's business as usual for the young Earl until a close encounter with death pushes him to some dangerous behavior. Demons can only be pushed so far...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evening

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a fanfic, so feedback is greatly appreciated. If you've found this, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

I had been waiting a half-hour for the evening post when Sebastian finally returned to the study, letters offered on a small silver tray.

“You’re late,” I spat.

“Apologies, Young Master. The delay could not be helped,” Sebastian explained. “It seems that the post-boy was robbed again.” He bent stiffly at the waist to offer me the letters from the tray, each one artfully fanned against the ornate silver.

“What a nuisance.”

“Indeed, My Lord,” Sebastian said.

I picked up the silver and ivory letter opener with its handle carved with the Phantomhive crest and selected the top letter to open.

“Nothing from Her Majesty?” I asked.

“No, Sir.”

“Hmmm…” That worried me. A robber might target correspondence bearing the royal seal.

“Shall I bring you some tea, My Lord?” Sebastian asked.

“No. Leave me,” I said, sitting back into the leather chair and looking into the warm, bright glow of the fireplace and let the darkly paneled walls of my study fade into the darkness again.

It had been over a month since the queen had sent her last correspondence and it worried me that a message may have been intercepted. Was this the work of common street thugs riffling through the post for valuables, or was there something more sinister going on?

I have been the queen’s watchdog since my father’s death eight years ago, picking up the Phantomhive duties where he left off. As it happens, those duties also provide a perfect vehicle for me to seek my revenge against my parent’s killers. Both tasks keep me mired in the stinking filth of London’s underworld, but really, would I have it any other way?

This issue with the post-boy concerned me though. If it wasn’t a random attack, the problem would have to be dealt with swiftly and any clandestine information that had been stolen en route to Phantomhive Manor would have to be recovered. Messes would have to be cleaned up.

“Sebastian,” I called. But he was already at the door, my overcoat and walking stick in hand. I wasn’t entirely sure if he had read my thoughts of if he was just that adept at reading my body language after being in my service these eight years. I’m not sure which would be more disturbing, but the truth is it's his ability to anticipate my needs that make him the ideal servant.

I got up from my chair and turned my back to Sebastian so he could help me on with my coat.

We took the Hansom cab for the sake of speed and discretion. It was just after 10 o’clock and the streets were in a lull between the dinner crowd and the post-theatre crowd that would swarm upon the cafes of London like the insipid and mindless locusts that they were. Our cab would pass through the night unseen.

“The post-boy was last seen on Brewer Street making a delivery,” Sebastian said through the hatch that connects his seat upon the back of the cab to mine on the interior. I didn't wonder where he got his information.  For all I knew or cared, there may have been a network of invisible imps in his employ that did his spying for him. When I entered into our covenant, I demanded that he never lie to me, so I trusted that he was providing good information now.

He turned the cab abruptly around a corner, tossing me around my seat and slowed the horse to a stop. We were in an alleyway between a tea shop and a rundown looking theatre. It was suitably dark for the cab to blend into the murk. Sebastian silently hopped down from the driver’s seat to open the cab door. He offered his slender, gloved hand as I exited, which I pointedly avoided. I thought I saw the briefest flicker of a smirk across his pale lips, but I ignored it. After years of being the obedient butler, being the caretaker and the protector, I sensed that Sebastian was beginning to test his bounds. I pushed the thought away, but it had soured my stomach already.

Back to that task at hand. I walked out of the alleyway and onto the street. The crowd was beginning to pick up and we were soon lost in the flow; just another gentleman and his butler. Only our destination would be a different sort of social call that most of the glassy-eyed idiots on the street couldn’t even fathom existed mere feet from their cups of wine and sweet deserts.

I pushed open a narrow unmarked door set deep into the brick alcove of the building. A warm burst of air enveloped us as we pressed inside. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, looking around until I saw what I was looking for.

I walked to the table in the back of the room, passed the gamblers tossing dice, passed the men with rotten teeth groping the strained and broken looking women at the bar, and sat down in front of a man no older than myself. He wore all black, dusty and worn around the edges. His face was lost in shadow except when he drew upon the cigarette between his lips, casting his visage into a ghastly light.

“Alden,” I said, tilting my head slightly in greeting. Sebastian stood behind me, my ever-present shadow.

“Earl Phantomhive. Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Harrison Alden leaned forward onto his elbows and assessed me with amusement.

“I’m looking for information.”

“Is that so? What makes you think that a lowly smuggler such as meself can help someone as noble as yourself?” He grinned, taking the cigarette from his mouth and regarding it thoughtfully before taking a long contemplative drag.

“Don’t be coy, Alden. I won’t insult either of us by offering threats. You know who I am.”

“That I do. So, you might as well get on with it then. What do you want?”

“There’s been a string of post robberies. The most recent was just this evening.” I watched his expression carefully. Alden was a moderate smuggler, bringing opium in from China for that drug addled idiot Lau, but he was also very observant. Just the kind of cockroach that can cling to a wall and overhear a conversation. His eye flicked from my face to somewhere behind me in the room. I felt Sebastian shift before I heard the gun go off.

“Really, must you all live up to the stereotypes that society has placed upon you?” I said as I stood to look for the man who had just attempted to shoot me in the back of the head.

“Murderers and villains, I’m afraid, My Lord.” Sebastian held the man up off the floor by his throat. The gun was crushed and scattered on the floor. The room around us grew silent.

I walked a few steps closer so I could stand before the man. He was unfortunately higher than eye level to my short stature but I let my cold gaze dig into him nonetheless. My size always caused others to underestimate me.

“You and that whore queen,” the man gasped, his face red, flecks of spittle on his lips. “You’ll never get away with it.”

“What exactly won’t I get away with?” I asked. I nodded to Sebastian to relax his grip so the man could speak.

“Bringing all them China whores and the China dope here to London,” the man spat.

“Whores and dope? Not really my area.” But my mind wandered to the missing correspondence. “Sebastian, search him.”

 


	2. Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a brush with death Ciel experience some confusing emotions.

Sebastian’s hands deftly flew over the man’s grubby suit, turning out his pockets and depositing their contents on the nearby tabletop: some coins, a set of weighted dice.  And there, a packet of correspondence. I picked up the bundle of letters and turned them over in my hands. I immediately recognized the royal seal, set in dark red wax. I nodded to Sebastian and turned away just after I heard the satisfying snap of the man’s neck. His body slid to the floor at Sebastian’s feet.

“Take care of that would you, Alden?” I tossed some coins on the bar. “For Alden’s tab and a round for the house,” I told the white-faced barkeeper.

Inside the Hansom cab as it bounced and creaked its way home, I clutched at the pile of letters in my lap. I felt ill thinking of the man’s brittle bones breaking in Sebastian’s hands.

But he meant to kill me.

Anger flared up in the pit of my stomach and soon consumed my mind. It was hardly the first time I had been shot at, but it was never any less unnerving with frequency.  If Sebastian hadn’t been there I would certainly be dead. Although, without my demon butler I would hardly take the risks I was so comfortable taking.

My avenging angel.

I could feel the heavy silence of his presence perched behind me in the driver seat like some great, dark crow. I wondered what he thought of this. Did he enjoy this evening’s outing? Was he at all concerned for my safety? Or were his thoughts only for my soul? I know how he starved himself. Surely the waiting was torturous. But what was time to a demon?

I hadn’t realized that the cab had stopped until the door sprung open and a white-gloved hand extended toward me. I found myself reaching for it and clasping it tightly, but not moving from my seat. I sat frozen for several moments holding his warm hand.

Sebastian’s face came into view. “My Lord? Is something wrong?” he asked.

I let go of his hand and got out of the cab unaided. Walking up the stone steps to the townhouse, I threw open the door and went inside leaving Sebastian behind me. The foyer was lit but my study was dark, the fire had burned down to pale embers while we were gone. I walked inside, wishing I were home at the Phantomhive manor and not at the townhouse in London. I longed for quiet and solitude to soothe the ache I felt growing inside my chest.

I threw my coat, hat and gloves down into my chair and then tossed the bundle of letters on top with a pang of irritation. I reached for a crystal glass from the sideboard, only in the dark, managed to knock it to the floor.

“Blast!” I bent down to pick up the pieces by reflex, not thinking, only to slice my hand on the broken glass. I stared at my hand in the dark, feeling the sting of the cut and the wetness of the blood as it began to flow.

“Young Master, please. Allow me to clean the glass,” Sebastian spoke softly from the doorway. He came to me with a clean white cloth to wrap around my bleeding hand.

“I’m not your ‘young master’ anymore,” I whispered.

 “Pardon, My Lord?” The slightest crease of confusion appeared between his brows.

“I’m nearly nineteen years old.” I pulled my hand back and looked at the cut, pressing it, making the blood flow more freely. Drops began to fall to the cold stone floor. As I looked back up at Sebastian’s face I thought I saw his tongue flick quickly to moisten his lips. The blood was tormenting him. I took a step closer to the butler, my body felt numb as I watched his eyes. Even in the dark I could see the change. His control was faltering.

“Please, allow me to bandage your hand, Sir.” His voice held just the slightest edge. The barest bit of huskiness that I could detect only because I was so accustomed to its sound.

I held my hand out, but as he went to wrap the cloth around the wound I pressed the blood to his lips. He immediately froze, but then I saw it. I saw his control as it failed him. His eyes were red as they rolled back, his mouth opened and his hands encircled my wrists. I gasped at their strength as he pulled me closer, all humanity and reason gone.

The numbness was suddenly gone as my brain finally caught on to the situation I had gotten myself into. Heat rushed to my face and a steady fear began to grow in my gut. But there was something else too. As Sebastian’s tongue found the wound on my palm and worked it open, exploring its depths as his mouth drew in my blood, I felt my knees grow weak and an unexpected moan escaped my lips.

The sound seemed to bring Sebastian back to himself, or back to his human self. He released my hand and turned his back to me for a moment, apparently seeking to compose himself. Whatever impulse it was that compelled me to torment him made me reach out and touch his shoulder to turn him back to face me. I was completely unprepared for the look of absolute bliss that still possessed his face. The stony composure was gone. His eyes were red with reptilian pupils, his lips were slack but turned up ever so slightly. He blinked slowly.

“Oh, Ciel…” he breathed.

I took another step closer to lessen the distance between us and looked up into that strangely familiar yet completely inhuman face.

“My blood,” I said.

“Your blood. Your blood is like nothing I have ever known. In all of my days. In all of the souls I have tasted…” His eyes suddenly focused and gazed down at me. His lips pressed together into a wicked grin. “That was a dangerous thing you did, Young Master.”

“Shut up,” I said, reaching up to place my lips against his. I felt the pull in my stomach again and realized that the fear was connected to another feeling that I hadn’t allowed myself to feel before. Not alone, not with anyone. Not even when I had been alone with Elizabeth the one time she insisted we kiss. And certainly not with Sebastian.

He offered barely a moment’s hesitation, his resolve already dangerously weakened by my blood, before he welcomed me into his warm embrace. Arms encircling my small frame, fingers pressing against my back. I let myself melt against him, all of my panic and sadness and anger from the evening leaving my body.

His tongue explored my mouth as deftly as it had the wound on my hand and I murmured my pleasure into his mouth. How often had I imagined this, not allowing myself the fantasy but still feeling the wicked desire late at night as I lie in bed?

I tasted the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth and realized that Sebastian had opened a fresh wound on my lip that he teased with his tongue, sucking at the blood. A crooning moan was rumbling from his throat and the growing pressure against my stomach let me know how much the blood was affecting him.

I pulled gently away. Sebastian stood still where I left him, his arms limp arms at his sides, eyes closed, lips slightly parted and tinted red with my blood.

“I’m going to bed,” I said and turned to leave the study for the dark staircase beyond.


	3. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 in which Ciel attempts to figure out what is happening in the underworld and in his own head...

I felt distinctly guilty for waiting to open the queen’s letter until the next morning. After my encounter with Sebastian, I fell into a deep and completely dreamless sleep, empty like the sleep after heavy grief. Sebastian hadn’t come to dress me in my night clothes or hang my suit up. My clothes still lay in a heap on the floor when he woke me with my morning tea and toast. The stack of letters we had recovered  from the previous night was on the tray along with the newspaper. I opened the letter with the royal seal as Sebastian picked up the clothes and tidied the room with swift movements.

He didn’t speak so I chose to ignore him as I braced for what the letter might contain. I noticed it hadn’t yet been opened. The thug intended to deliver the letter to another party then. It made sense. He didn’t strike me as a criminal mastermind.

“Earl Phantomhive:

It has been brought to our attention that shipments arriving from the East are going missing. We understand that the importation of goods from China is a complex operation and that the current restrictions on the opium trade are causing unsavory entrepreneurs to seek alternative means of business, however, this interruption in trade has potential to damage our economy.

We request that you employ your investigative skills to unlock this mystery. A status update is requested upon your receipt of this letter.

-V”

So, the Queen suspected that I had missed her letters. This was further proof that something larger was going on. The only course of action was to pay a visit to that dimwitted dope fiend Lau. It was always a headache to attempt to speak to him but he was connected with both the legal and the illicit import business in London and he was pliable enough that I knew I could get information if he had it.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, setting the letters aside.

“Sebastian, we’re paying a visit to Lau this evening. No sense in going until dark. He’s probably no good this time of day.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Sebastian said.

I watched Sebastian as he gathered the tray with my uneaten breakfast and left the room. Regret for the previous night soured my stomach. I had let my selfish feelings interfere with the business at hand. Besides, what was I to Sebastian? Only a meal to be anticipated. Why torment him with something he can’t yet have? What if I had pushed him too far and he broke the contract? He was a demon after all and they can only be trusted to a certain point. But I had trusted him completely hadn’t I? Everything I had, everything I was rested upon Sebastian’s capable shoulders, spurred on by my anger and need for revenge. I laughed to myself at the absurdity of it until I felt like crying. By that point, Sebastian returned to help me dress for the day.

My first task was to write a quick note to the Queen. I didn’t bother putting it through the post but instead paid a private courier to bring it directly to the palace. Really, the day that the Queen couldn't rely on the Royal Post was a sad day for England. I dealt with Funtom business and waited out the day until I felt confident that Lau would be receptive to my visit.

I called on Lau at his establishment in the East End. He was situated on a mountain of silk pillows, his companion, the always scantily clad Ran-Mao, lounging across his lap. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see me as I ascended the stairs to his private den. The room was dim and a thick smoky perfume hung in the air. Gilded dragons and ornately painted wood carvings decorated the walls. There was no real furniture to speak of, but there were many cushions and pillows scattered about the room as well as a few low tables. I chose the one closest to where Lau reclined and sat down. Sebastian melted behind me into the shadows of the room.

“Ciel Phantomhive. How very nice,” Lau said by way of greeting. “We know why you are here.”

“Do you?” I asked. I had learned not to take everything that Lau said at face value as he often spouted a fair bit of nonsense before anything of any substance came out of his mouth.

“Yes we do, don’t we, Ran-Mao?” He affectionately stroked her head as if she were his pet.

“I’m wondering if you’ve encountered any interruption in your trade lately. Any shipments going missing? Any new importers on the scene that may be causing you trouble?”

“Yes, trouble,” Lau nodded, still stroking his pet bodyguard.

“Yes?” I pressed.

“What?”

“I asked if you had encountered any new blood in the trade.” I tried to push my frustration down, but my anger was as ever-present as my butler.

“Oh. Now that you mention it, there is a new fellow who recently entered the market. His product is an inferior blend. Not suitable. I’m not sure where he came from, but he does seem to have ample resources behind him,” Lau explained in his sleepy sing-song way.

“How long ago did this man appear?” I asked.

“Oh. Ran-Mao, how long ago was it? Two week ago, perhaps?” Ran-Mao said nothing but looked at Lau quizzically then continued to stare in my direction. I took this as an  affirmation.

“Two weeks,” I repeated. “And what exactly did you notice?”

“Well, I noticed that some of my customers were missing, only to have them return later in the week with the sickness.”

“The sickness? You mean withdrawal from opium?”

Lau nodded and his eyes opened just slightly for the first time since we began talking. “They had gone to his inferior product and missed the dragon completely.”

This information was apparently very significant to Lau because he watched my reaction as he said it before settling back into his relaxed stupor.

“What else can you tell me?” I asked.

“I don’t think this is his only trade. Perhaps he has larger ambitions.”

“Such as?” Honestly, this conversation was wearing on me.

“Museum pieces. Artwork. China has a history much deeper than England and the treasures are very valuable.”

“Smuggling and bad opium?”

“Would you care to stay? I’d be happy to show you the difference in quality.” Lau lounged back even further into his nest of pillows as Ran-Mao reached for a long pipe and prepared it with a ball of sticky resin.

“No. I think not.” I stood and Sebastian handed me my hat and walking stick.

“Ah well. I’ll have you someday, Ciel,” was Lau’s parting remark as I made my way back down the darkened stairway and into the relatively fresh air outside. My head ached and I was glad when Sebastian closed the carriage door and we began to move along the jostling cobblestones.


	4. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciel finally receives a message from the Queen but is no closer to figuring out his mystery or figuring out Sebastian's behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to bridge a few ideas. Feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading.

Sitting back in my study I looked over the other stolen letters again finding nothing of value. Why the post? What was I missing? Surely this couldn’t be to steal my personal letters. Not entirely anyway.

I was used to unknotting this sort of mess, but the process was still tiring and all the more stressful because I wasn’t entirely sure how long Her Majesty had known there had been a problem or how many letters she had sent me. The unreliable nature of the post was a problem. I let my mind drift for a while as I watched the fire, hoping that something new would occur to me. However, my mind betrayed me by drifting to the previous night and the feeling of Sebastian’s mouth on mine.

“Young Master?” Sebastian said softly from the doorway, startling me nearly out of my chair.

“For God's sake! Could you try to make a little more noise next time? You nearly gave me a heart attack!” I spat at him.

“Apologies, My Lord. Shall I fetch some brandy to calm your nerves?”

“No. What is it you want? Why have you disturbed me?”

“A message arrived from the courier, My Lord,” he said and handed me the folded paper.

I recognized the stationary even without the royal seal. A quick note that was likely penned while the courier waited. Inside was an address and a time next to tomorrow’s date.

“1A Assembly Passage – 9 pm.”

I folded the page back up and glanced at Sebastian. He watched me carefully but without expression. There was nothing specifically troubling about the look other than the fact that he made eye contact in a way that was unfitting for someone in the serving class. In light of his recent behavior, it made me uneasy. I felt my face flush and turned back to look at the fire.

“Leave me,” I said.

“Yes, my Lord.”


	5. Can't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strawberries...

Another moment of silence and my mind was screaming at me for release. My hands reached up to grasp my head, applying pressure, trying to make the pain stop. The emptiness in my soul was a cold, dull ache. It was always the quiet darkness of late night that made the pain worse.

I sat up in bed and looked into the dark of my room. So quiet, so pristine. So empty. My bare feet touched the marble floor and padded silently out into the hall. Soft light lead me down the stairs to the kitchen. Sebastian stood at the sideboard carefully slicing strawberries and arranging them onto some kind of pastry shell. His coat was carefully draped over the back of a chair and his shirt sleeves were rolled up as he worked. I often wondered how he knew what to do with human food. He seemed to have complete mastery over everything he touched.

“Young Master, are you having trouble sleeping?” Sebastian asked, not looking to where I stood in the shadows of the doorway. “I could fix you some tea or a bit of brandy, perhaps?”

The townhouse kitchen was smaller than the kitchen in the manor, but it was just as clean and orderly with gleaming copper pots hanging from the ceiling and the subtle smell ripe apples and of bread dough rising. I walked into the room, not remembering having stepped inside more than once or twice in the past. The floor was warm under my feet from the fire still lit in the oven.

I watched Sebastian’s long fingers as he worked; his skin pale in the dim light. I noticed he wasn’t wearing the gloves that were part of his livery and that hid the symbol of our covenant on the back of his left hand. His guard was down and this was perhaps as casual and comfortable as I had ever seen him. The longer I stood and watched, the more amazing he became. A daily part of my life for these last eight years, why was it that I felt that I was seeing him for the first time?

As he finished with the last strawberry and wiped his hands clean with a white cloth, he turned to look at me for the first time. His eyes seemed to look through me for a second before he spoke again. “Young Master, you’re going to catch your death of cold dressed like that.”

“I told you, I’m not your ‘young master’ anymore,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he smiled. “I suppose you did.”   

“And I don’t have to do as I’m told.”

“No. I suppose not,” he said, the smile still lingering. “This is perhaps the warmest room of the house.” He turned to pull a glass from the cupboard and poured some brandy into it. He held the glass out to me, eyes locked on mine.

A small shiver of fear started in the pit of my stomach but I stepped closer and took the glass, hopping up onto the carefully scrubbed sideboard, sitting next to the pastry Sebastian had been preparing, my feet swinging off the floor. I picked up a sliced berry from the tart and ate it. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he watched me.

“It needs sugar,” I said.

Sebastian stepped closer and leaned forward, his hands on the sideboard on either side of where I sat. “Really?” he said. “You’ve never complained about my berry tarts before.”

“These strawberries must not be ripe.” I drank the brandy in one swallow, savoring the warmth as it spread down my throat, and set the glass down.

“And this one?” Sebastian asked, selecting another sliced berry from the tart and offering it to me. He carefully watched my face. I opened my mouth allowing him to place the berry on my tongue but closed my lips before his fingers could withdraw. He made a small sound of pleasure, his eyes changing for just a shimmering moment to show his demonic nature.

“Really Sebastian, where did you buy these strawberries? That one was just as sour.”

“Perhaps if we added a little honey to the tart,” Sebastian said reaching for the honey dipper in its small glass dish. He held the dipper above my lips, letting a heavy strand of honey drip down before replacing it into its dish. I licked my lips, savoring the sweetness, and then before I could change my mind, reached forward and put my lips to his.

This time there was no surprise in him, no stiffness or hesitation. I had worn through his defenses. He leaned into me as I pulled him closer. His black hair was soft under my fingers, his skin was hot.  There was a subtle smell to his skin that I had never noticed before that was a mixture of wood smoke and clove spice. It smelled clean and familiar and I drank it in as I drank in the feeling of his mouth on mine. I pressed my tongue against his, pushing it aside to touch the sharpness of his teeth.  I pulled back when I tasted blood. His hands gripped the countertop at my sides, making the wood crack. That rush of fear returned to my stomach.

I gently pushed him back, one hand against his firm chest, and looked at his face. His eyes were completely reptilian now, half-lidded but still focused on me. My hand slid up to the collar of his shirt where the top button was already undone. I traced my finger along his collarbone, watching his face carefully.

“What…”I began, then stopped as the sound of my own voice was too real for the situation. Embarrassment crept in and my resolve began to retreat. I dropped my hand and slid down off the sideboard to the floor. Sebastian’s hands were still on either side of me against the counter, but now I was looking directly at his chest. I was essentially trapped. I felt heat rush to my face.

“Yes, Young Master?” Sebastian took one slender finger and lifted my chin to look at him.

“What can this be? This can’t be right.” I stammered.

“Why, whatever do you mean? I’m afraid there is no such thing as ‘right’, Young Master.”

“You’re driving me insane,” I managed around my staggering embarrassment.

“The feeling is quite mutual, I assure you, Ciel,” Sebastian said turning to arrange the sliced strawberries on the tart, carefully masking the place where I had touched it. “Now, let’s get you back to bed. We have a busy day ahead.”

“I don’t think I can sleep,” I said.

“Well,” he said, turning down the lamp until the light was extinguished. “I might be able to help you feel a bit more tired.” Even in the darkness I could tell he was smiling.


	6. Restless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So very submissive, Ciel. After that display in the kitchen I had expected more...

In the soft quiet of my room I fell into the nest of covers that I had left earlier. Sebastian followed behind me, hesitating only briefly before he closed the door behind him. The gesture was so oddly profound that my breath caught in my throat as I watched. He still wore only his shirt sleeves, his jacket and gloves abandoned in the kitchen. His long fingers began to undo the buttons of the crisp white shirt as I watched. He was gauging my reaction, calculating, waiting for any sign that he was overstepping his boundaries.

My mind bounced between profound panic and extreme excitement as I watched. What was this? Could this really be happening? Oh, but his skin was so perfectly pale and smooth that it made my hands ache to touch it. I realized it wasn’t only my hands that ached.

Sebastian stepped closer to the bed, his shirt completely undone. He pulled it carefully from the waist band of his trousers until it hung loose. His chest was pale, hairless, like a marble statue; slender, but still muscular.  His eyes never left me as he removed the shirt from his shoulders and draped it carefully over a chair. He stood near enough to touch now, watching me with his half-lidded red eyes. Not quite tenderly.

As I looked at him, more of him than I had ever seen, I wondered how he came to look this way. I had seen glimpses of his true form, but as a human he always appeared the same. He didn’t seem to age or change. He was always this perfection of a man. I wondered if he chose this form or if it had somehow been predetermined by whatever power made him. Not God, surely, but some darker power capable of be spelling the likes of me.

Sebastian leaned forward and touched his lips to my forehead, softly, sending a spark through me that made me gasp. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of him, savoring the longing I felt to touch him. A sudden pull on my nightshirt and then the cool air from the room on my skin and I was exposed before him. His warm hands on my shoulders pushed me down onto the bed and I closed my eyes again, shivering, yet feeling like I might catch fire at the same instant.

“So very submissive, Ciel. After that display in the kitchen I had expected more,” he teased. 

“I like when you say my name,” I said, looking up at him. He sat now on the edge of the bed looking like some incubus from an apocryphal tale. “I like to look at you,” I said.

“Is that all?” He asked, a smile starting to turn the corners of his lips.

“No,” I said. “I like to kiss you. I like to touch you.”

“And?”

“Shut up, Sebastian.”

I reached up and pulled him down to the bed, finding his lips with mine. He flowed over me like liquid fire, his bare arms and chest scalding my naked skin where they touched. The smell of him was intoxicating and the feel of him under my hands made me so very hungry. I was nearly desperate as I fumbled with the buttons of his trousers. He took pity of me and removed them with such swiftness that I felt no pause to his embrace. Now nothing separated our bodies. I didn’t dare to open my eyes.

It was almost too much to feel him so close, to feel how aroused he was to be near me like this. The brush of his skin against my swollen cock was almost enough to push me over the edge. I arched my back and gently pushed him away. I felt his lips land softly on my shoulder, first one then the other and another kiss along my chest. I almost sat completely up when I felt his tongue trace a slick pattern around my nipple. I opened my eyes and saw that he was watching me intently, his tongue still flicking like that of serpent against my trembling flesh. He watched my expression, still gauging my reaction, looking for signs of actual distress.

I reached out to run my hand through his hair, pulling it ever so slightly, then pulling harder. He watched me passively. I pushed against his shoulder, moving him further down my chest, shifting my hips under his weight. He took the hint and situated himself comfortably between my thighs, resting the blackened tips of his fingers against my hip bone, pressing, watching me. He leaned his head down and rubbed his cheek against my cock, holding my hips down against the bed with only his fingers.  He flicked his tongue against the base of my shaft and then before I could get my eyes to focus again, he swallowed me whole.

The only thing keeping me from bucking up off the bed was the steady pressure of his fingertips against my hip, holding me with a steely strength that was both exciting and terrifying at once.  The sensation of being in his mouth was like bathing in fire, so overwhelmingly hot and delicious that I could scarcely concentrate. I eventually lost the grip on myself and fell into the sensation of him. The working of his mouth, the swallowing of his throat, the coaxing of his hands. It was over too fast. The climax tore through me like sudden death and I screamed clawing at his shoulders, pulling at his hair, until he released me.

I lay there, shivering though I had been covered with the bed clothes. My naked skin still tingled where the blankets touched. I knew I was alone as I drifted off to sleep. The room was warm and quiet. My mind was blissfully empty.


	7. Uncomfortable Morning

Morning with its unforgiving clarity and light came crashing into my consciousness as I sat bolt upright with a gasp.

Sebastian was setting down the breakfast tray and pouring out a cut of tea.

“I didn’t mean to startle you again, Young Master.” He spared a glance at me while I tried to swallow my heartbeat back down. “I tried to make more noise as you had suggested.” The barest hint of a smile played on his lips.

I lay back down against the pillow. The night before came rushing back to me and I knew my face had colored. My cock betrayed me by sitting up on its own and I was thankful for the abundance of covers across my lap.

“Are you unwell, my Lord?” Sebastian asked, offering the cup of Ceylon tea to me.

I glanced daggers at him as I sat up and took the tea. “I’m fine,” I said.

“Very well. You have morning meeting with one of the Funtom Factory managers about the new holiday Bitter Rabbit toy and then a lunch appointment with a new sweets distributor for Paris. Shall I prepare your blue velvet suit?”

“Yes, that’s fine.” I tried to swallow down my embarrassment as I swallowed sips of tea, but the idea of having Sebastian dress me was suddenly overwhelming.

“Are you quite sure you’re feeling well?” Sebastian asked. The slight curve to the corner of his lips let me know he was amused by my discomfort.

“You’re enjoying this,” I said, putting the tea cup aside. “You enjoy seeing me suffer.”

He sat on the side of the bed watching me in the way a bird of prey watches a mouse, and reached out to touch the side of my face. It was almost affectionate but his expression never softened.

“Ciel, I can be whatever you need me to be. You have only to ask,” he said.

“Whatever I want?” I repeated.

“Yes.”

“But what is it that you want?” I held his gaze with my own. I wondered what he felt. If he was capable. My own affection seemed like a silly and weak emotion when faced with his blank gaze.

“I have what I want,” he said standing and moving to pick up the breakfast tray. “I have you.”

Somehow it was not a comforting thought.


	8. Afternoon Meeting

That afternoon, after my lunch meeting, I returned to the townhouse. Lau was wandering around my parlor, opening cabinets and drawers as though he were searching for something. Sebastian and I watched him from the doorway for a moment.

“Honestly, Lau, what are you doing? How did you get in here?” I asked.

“We’re looking for tea,” Lau responded. The ‘we’ of course included Ran-Mao who sat still on the end of the settee staring at me as Lau took the lid off an urn to peer inside.

“Sebastian…”

“Yes, my Lord.” Sebastian took my coat, hat and walking stick and then headed toward the kitchen to make tea.

“Sit down, Lau,” I said and settled into a chair myself. “What is it that you want?”

“I came to tell you about the auction,” he said.

“I know,” I said smugly. Sebastian returned with tea and poured three cups before shifting to stand behind me. My comforting shadow.

“You will bring your money then? This house could use some new artwork. Perhaps something from the Tang Dynasty?” Lau smiled, tucking his hands into his overly long sleeves and sitting back against the couch.

“What can you tell me?”

“The terracotta women from the 8th century are particularly lovely.”

“About the auction, you idiot.”

“This is the event our new friend has been building up to these weeks. Such ambition. I wonder what will happen.” Lau smiled, eyes settled closed.

“Any other information on who this might be?”

“It Is a bit of a mystery. He does not seem to be Chinese despite his interest in the opium trade. It does not seem likely that he is English either.”

“What do you know about the auction?” I asked.

“I received this invitation,” Lau said, pulling a folded piece of paper from his sleeve.

“But that’s impossible!” I snatched the note from his hand, turning it over. “This is the same note I received. This is the Queen’s stationary!”

“Well, that does make this interesting.”


	9. A Clever Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ciel, it is taking every ounce of my strength not to devour you.”

Now that I knew the Earl Phantomhive was expected at tonight’s event, I needed to do my best to arrive in disguise if I hoped to learn anything of importance. This was a game that Sebastian and I had employed with varied amounts of success over the years. It took no small bit of effort to shed my customary trappings of luxury for a rough spun shirt and twill coat. Sebastian applied enough pomade to my hair to make it appear dirty and changed my silken eye patch to a plain black cotton one. He stood back to admire his work, a hand curled thoughtfully under his chin.

The sun had begun to sink toward the horizon, leaving the dressing room in a deepening twilight gloom. The darkness made my mind skip to intimate thoughts that the daylight had done its best to chase away. The look that flickered across Sebastian’s face made me wonder for the thousandth time if he could read my thoughts.

“If you don’t come here this instant I might die,” I heard myself say.

He cocked an eyebrow but stayed where he was.

“Sebastian…”

“Yes, my Lord?” he asked softly.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Repeat yourself? I wouldn’t dream of it.” He took a step closer and stopped. He turned to light the lamp, though I never saw a match.

“Sebastian…”

“I merely want to hear you beg.”

That face. That smirk that sent sword blades of desire though my soul. My legs felt weak. I remembered the feeling of his limbs tangled with mine. The smell of him like bonfires and blood sacrifice. Like oranges pierced with cloves. Like mulled wine and just a hint of death.

“Sebastian, this is an order,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Come…here...”

He walked the last few steps and slammed his hands up against the wall, one on either side of my head, making me jump. He leaned his face in to mine until he was watching me from only a few inches away.

“Yes…my Lord,” he said watching, breathing in my scent. That smile curling the sides of his mouth. 

I waited until I could no longer stand it and reached up to throw my arms around his neck to pull him to my mouth. Even at 18 he was still so much taller than me. He drew his arms around my back, folding me into his warmth as I sought to devour him. The hunger I felt had no rational, but I was so complete and persistent that I was prepared to let it destroy me in that moment. Can this possibly be what humans feel for one another when attraction takes hold? Or was something demonic possessing me?

The bright coppery burst of blood in my mouth drew me back to my senses. Sebastian was moaning softly, rocking me in his arms, constricting me against his chest. I pushed down the panic and submitted to the insistent suckling of his mouth on mine as he sought to drink my blood. I breathed in the scent of him and tangled my fingers in his hair as he pulled me down to the floor.

The floor felt like it was spinning beneath me and I clung to Sebastian tighter. I couldn’t get enough air. I didn’t care. If I were to die in his arms at that moment I wouldn’t have cared.

This is the only heaven I’ll ever know.

When he finally broke the kiss he mouth was stained red with my blood. His eyes were unfocused and his breathing was ragged. It was rare to see him so unguarded and I loved it. I loved that I could have this effect on him.

“Tell me how much you want me,” I whispered.

“Ciel, it is taking every ounce of my strength not to devour you.”

I snaked my arms under his jacket and laid my head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, nestling his face against my hair. I could hear a heartbeat but it definitely wasn’t a human sound. The rhythm was slow and resonated through my head like the thrum of a steam engine losing speed. My tongue found the open wound in my bottom lip and tasted the blood there. The small sting of pain made me content somehow. Comforted by a demon and excited by pain. Heaven help me.


	10. The Auction

The auction was in a warehouse in the East End. There was no indication that we were in the right place until we opened a second door into the main open space of the warehouse.  Once we entered the room, Lau sprung into action with an enthusiasm that was rare to see. It was obvious that he was both used to commanding the people around him and their respect as he swept into the room.

A crowd had already formed and there was a palpable air of excitement in the dark musty auction house. Oil lamps gave off a greasy glow to the gloom and added to the smoke that already clung to the crowd in a thick cloud. I never understood the appeal of inhaling any combusting materials, but it seemed as popular with this crowd as it was in any society gathering I had ever attended.

The crowd itself seemed to be a mix of the typical lowlife refuse I had come to expect from the East End and a slightly higher caliber of criminal. These would be the buyers, the blokes with the money who would turn around and sell their merchandise to the upper echelon for an astronomical markup. Not that their clients would ever be caught dead in a pit like this even if they had known about the auction.

I turned to glance up at Sebastian. He had shed his butler’s livery for the evening in favor of a plain black suit and a bowler hat. Black gloves covered his hands. Looking at him made my stomach flutter, but I pushed the feeling down. “Check around and see if you can find any information before this gets started. There’s enough criminal activity in this one room to bring down the empire,” I whispered.

He nodded and disappeared at once into the crowd leaving me with Lau.

“Oh, porter boy? Come here.” It took me a moment to realize Lau was addressing me. “Don’t be daft, lad. Stay close to me. I’ll need you to carry my purchases,” Lau admonished.

So, much like Ran-Mao, I was forced to follow Lau as he meandered through the crowd, speaking to a ghastly assortment of people, some of who I recognized and many I did not. He fluidly jumped from English to Chinese and back again without breaking his stride. So obviously was he in his element.

After about twenty minutes of this, a well-dressed Englishman stepped out of the crowd and begged everyone’s attention. A makeshift stage had been erected along one wall and a series of lamps were now arranged to illuminate the first item up for bid.

The vessel looked old and unmemorable, a white bowl shaped thing with a fitted lid. It had a dark, dirty looking patina on the surface and no decorative marking that I could see from where I stood, though granted my head was a bit below the height of the crowd.  Upon the item's display, the crowd gave a collective gasp and began to murmur among themselves.

“Oh, well that is surprising,” Lau said to himself.

“What on earth is it?” I asked.

“It a chrysanthemum cup. Qing Dynasty, I think. The surface is covered in jade, look at the way the light hits it as he turns it.”

“It looks ordinary to me,” I quipped. Then the bidding started in a fury of activity.

After a matter of seconds the bid was racing higher than five thousand quid and I was absolutely astonished. What the hell was going on? I scanned the anxious crowd for Sebastian but saw no sign of him.

“Seventy-five,” Lau said with a wave of his paper fan.

“Seventy-six,” said another man nearby. He waved a newspaper and looked crossly at Lau.

“Seventy-seven, but that’s as much as it’s worth,” Lau said with an off-hand gesture of the fan, flicking it open to lazily fan the air about his face.

“Sold to the Chinese gentleman for seven thousand and seven hundred pounds!” the auctioneer announced.

“What are you doing, you idiot? What did you buy that thing for?”

“I didn’t buy it. You did. Now go pay the man and retrieve my chrysanthemum cup, porter boy.” He was enjoying this too much.

I picked my way to the stage where the auctioneer’s assistant was waiting. “Name?” he asked impatiently. The next item was already being brought to the stage for inspection.

“Lau. Kong-Rong Trading Company,” I said. I glanced around the stage, but everything was dark and what wasn’t dark was swarming with people. I could see a door to another room where the items seemed to be coming from, but it was guarded by two of the largest Chinese men I had ever seen.

“Thank you,” the man wrote the information down without looking at me. “You can pick up your item and pay at the end of the auction.”

I made my way back to Lau, confused and more than slightly irritated that I had purchased a dirty looking cup for a small fortune. He was already sizing up the next piece on the chopping block.

“Don’t even think about it. I’m not made of money, you know,” I emphasized my statement by jabbing him sharply in the ribs with my elbow.

“Aren’t you? Well, we can just watch I suppose.” Lau continued to fan himself. “This is a pair of jade gold fish. Also Qing Dynasty, I believe. Magnificent. These must have come from a palace collection, they are quite fine pieces.”

It was a mystery to me how Lau could see any amount of detail when his eyes appeared to be closed, but by the rapid bidding spat that broke out, I guessed his appraisal was accurate.  The bidding was just coming to a close when I saw Lau’s fan flick decisively in the air.

“Ten!” he announced.

“Sold for ten thousand pounds to the Chinese gentleman, once again!” the auctioneer boomed. There was a scuffle near us as the next closest bidder attempted to take a swing at Lau, but his companions restrained him.

“Do you know who that is? That’s the leader of the Kong-Rong! Stand down, it’s not worth the hassle,” I heard one of the men whisper.

“You son of a bitch!” I hissed at Lau under my breath.

“Go on, porter boy,” Lau shooed me with his fan toward the stage again. Absolutely fuming I made my way to the waiting assistant but he just nodded at me and took down the information from his previous entry.

As I spun on my heels to return to Lau, I felt a pull on my coat. Expecting to see Sebastian, I instead turned to find a dirty rag being thrust into my face.


	11. The American

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really, my Lord, you seem to have a perfect knack for getting yourself kidnapped.

My head was positively splitting when I tried to sit up. My uncovered eye tried to focus but found only darkness. I realized that I had been hoodwinked. I tried to reach my hands up to touch my face, but found that they had been bound behind me.  It took me a moment to chase the fog out of my brain enough that I remembered where I had been before this had happened. I was at the underground auction in the East End.  I fought down a wave of panic and tried to clear my head and listen to the room around me.

“Oi, looks like our guest of honor is wakin’ up,” a raspy voice said. My blindfold was lifted and I blinked to focus around the pain in my head. I debated for a quick second whether to continue with my porter act, but the ‘guest of honor’ comment meant that I was probably found out.

“Who are you?” I demanded. I thrashed my head around but still couldn’t find a face to focus on.

“It’s not who I am that you’d be wantin’ to know. I suspect it’s who my boss is you’d be askin’,” the voice said.

“Then who in the hell is your boss?” I asked. I was not interested in arguing semantics with this lout.

“Well, that is an interesting question, innit?”

“I hardly think so. It’s been my experience that there’s nothing interesting about the criminal element. Only greed and violence. Now, answer my question.”

“Demanding little thing, aren’t ya? Well, they did say you was an Earl, though I didn’t believe them with the way you’s dressed.”

“Really, this is getting boring.” I finally cleared my head enough to find the man and focus on his face. I thought I recognized him from the gambling den where we had questioned Alden only a few nights ago. It was hard to remember, but his face seemed familiar. Thinking about the bullet that almost ended my life that night sent a thrill of fear through me and I was having difficulty pushing it down this time.

“Aw, the little Earl is scared!” He began to taunt me and looked like he was reaching toward me but a hand came out of the darkness of the room and cuffed him upside the head.

“Leave him be. I need to speak with our guest,” the man said. I struggled to focus on him but my head was swimming again and a violent paint shot through my covered eye. What could that mean?  “Now Earl Phantomhive, finally we meet face-to-face. I am sorry that it is under these dreadful circumstances but you really left me little choice with the way you’ve been snooping around.”

“You sent the invitations then. How did you get the royal stationary?”  

“Easy enough feat if one has the right connections in the right places,” he made a gesture as if the task was nothing at all. “The real headache was stopping all of the letters the Queen was trying to send to you. Really, that woman is very persistent.”

“But you’re the one who invited me here,” I said, still trying to wrap my foggy head around what was happening.

“Only after you killed my errand boy. Please, try to keep up, Earl Phantomhive.”

“What is it you’re trying to do here? You seem to have some fancy merchandise for a lowlife.” I thought about what Lau had said about the auction pieces being fine enough to have come from a palace collection.

“That’s just it,” the man said, finally coming around into my view. He was slight of stature like me, but very non-descript. The type of man who could easily vanish into a crowd. He was dressed nicely but not overly so.

“You’re American,” I blurted out.

The man laughed. “How observant, young Earl. Now, I think we’ve talked enough. I have quite a lot of money to collect. It was a pleasure meeting you and of course once you’re gone it should be so much easier to do business here. I understand you are the last of the line of the Queen’s little watchdogs.”

“You blackguard! Come back here!” I shouted, but the man had already left.

“Well then,” the raspy voice returned as the hired muscle moved in toward me. “It seems the time has come for us to say g’night.”

“I’ve had enough of you, “I said. I saw the man’s gun and felt that wave of panic again. I would not be shot. Not like this and not by an imbecile like him.

“Sebastian! This is and order. Free me and break this man’s arms.”

I felt a warm surge of energy that let me know that my message had been heard. It was likely that Sebastian had been close by this entire time, but I saw no sign of him as the man leveled his pistol at my face.

“I don’t know who you think is gonna hear ya, but I promise there will be no rescue party for you.” Just as a greasy laugh began to trickle from the man’s lips, the arm that held the gun was bent upward at an unnatural angle. I heard his elbow snap before the man screamed. The second arm bent with a wet snap leaving the man screaming and wailing on the floor.

Sebastian strode out of the shadows and began to untie me.

“Really, my Lord, you seem to have a perfect knack for getting yourself kidnapped.”

I wanted to fire back a sarcastic response but I didn’t have the venom in me. Twice this week I had nearly died and it had taken its toll on my spirit. I collapsed into Sebastian’s arms and began to sob against his chest. He said nothing but swiftly picked me up into his arms like he had done when I was a child, and took me out of the warehouse.


	12. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Patience, my Lord,” he said and quietly closed the door.

I was completely insensible and didn’t begin to come back to myself until we had safely returned to the townhouse. Sebastian placed me on the settee in my study and started a fire to warm the room. He stood behind me, patient and watchful. When he saw my eyes open he spoke.

“They must have drugged you, Young Master. You were quite unwell. How are you feeling now?” I saw what I thought was genuine concern on his face for a moment before he was blank once again.

“I don’t think it was the drugs, Sebastian. I think it was…I think it was the gun,” I whispered.

“The gun?” Sebastian looked genuinely puzzled.

“What happened to the American?”

“He escaped while I was dealing with the gunman. I heard a carriage outside.”

I sighed and felt like a complete failure. “Almost dying twice in the last few days… I think I panicked. I couldn’t think past my own fear.”

“But you were never in any real danger, my Lord. I was there by your side even if you could not see me. You know I am never far even when you send me away.” Sebastian smiled his demon smile that did nothing to ease my fear.

“Promise me. You promise me that you’ll never leave me.” I whispered. I hated how desperate and afraid I felt, but the pain and anger and fear that tore at my insides was making me weak.

Sebastian came around to kneel in front of me, placing a hand to his breast. “Though this body may perish, I shall never leave your side. I shall escort you to the farthest reaches of hell and be with you until the very end.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Shut up.” I smiled and pulled his stunned face down to kiss me.

There was no hesitation. So hungry was I for carnal comfort that my body seemed to behave of its own accord. My hands dug into his hair as I explored his mouth, pulling and tasting him as deeply as I could.

He picked me up off the settee, again like I was a child and cradled me against his chest. He kept my tongue away from his teeth, teasing me, knowing I was as eager for the pain as he was to taste my blood.

He carried me to my bed and carefully placed me onto the soft covers. His arms pulled away.

“Don’t…” I began, afraid he would leave me.

“Patience, my Lord,” he said and quietly closed the door.

He used his teeth to pull off the black gloves and let them drop to the floor. I looked down at the gloves and then to his deliciously serious face. His eyes were half-lidded and watchful; always gauging my reaction before completing an action. His long fingers unknotted the silk tie about his throat then began on his waist coat buttons. Still in his strange clothing from our adventure he wasn’t my butler as he watched me, watching him, slowly shrugging out of the waist coat. It fell to the floor, carelessly. Forgotten. The white fingers began to unbutton the shirt and I thought I would die at the perfection of him. His chest was pale and smooth and the sight of it exposed made my fingers clench against the coverlet.

The shirt fell to the floor and he waited for just the slightest moment, drinking in the expression that must have been on my face, before stepping out of his shoes and climbing onto the bed beside me. I could feel the heat coming off his bare skin and my hands greedily pulled him closer. A gentle hand in my hair untied my eye patch and tossed it aside, his warm mouth kissing my face. One eyelid, then the other, so hot and swollen from crying; I kissed his mouth and tasted my tears on his lips.

When the long fingers began to undress me, his firm body pressed against mine, breath warm and slightly rushed, I felt my tension go. The fear and pain was replaced by a sudden need to devour him in any way I could.

Inexperienced and frantic, I groped and pulled at him, biting at his naked shoulders and arms as he pulled off my coat and shirt. Finally he had enough and pinned both of my arms above my head, holding them with one hand.

“Really, my Lord, you must learn patience,” he said leaning his face above mine, so close but denying me the kiss.

He unbuttoned my trousers and slid them off, casually brushing my cock with his fingertips, making my hips buck off the bed.

“Anticipation is half of the pleasure,” he whispered. “I have learned that over the years.” His tongue traced a slick path from my chest to my stomach, flicking my hip bones, each in turn. I hissed out my frustration.

“Please.” I whispered, reaching my hips toward him, my arms trembling as he held them still with his significant strength.

“Yes?” his voice held an edge of desire that I could nearly taste and his face had gone dark, eyes completely red and alien.

“Please,” I said again helplessly.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want me to do.” Oh, he was pure evil.

“Please fuck me!” I said, so desperately lost in his spell, my entire being on fire. And that grin, that awful grin as he licked his lips and leaned in to kiss me, his chest pressed against mine, hot and firm and as I writhed against him I realized that the rest of his clothing had vanished and nothing was between our skin. I let my hand run down his back and down the curve of his ass, pulling him tighter against me, grinding my swollen cock against him, moaning into his shoulder. Biting that pale flesh.

“Ciel, open your eyes,” he said into my ear and punctuated the command with a quick thrust of his hips. My eyes flew open and met his.

“This is what you want? Because I may not be able to control myself…” he started but I stopped him with a kiss, thrusting my tongue into his mouth and slicing it open on his sharp teeth, my blood flooding both of our mouths. Sebastian moaned and picked up my hips, pulling me closer, his cock pushing against my ass. He broke the kiss for a brief moment to lick his hand with a tongue that did not look at all human and I felt him stroke himself before pressing urgently against my entrance. He leaned down and that tongue found mine again, found my blood and sharply snapped at my wound causing a sharp sting of pain.

I gasped, raising my hips, and he pressed his cock in me to the hilt.

“S-Sebastian,” I breathed his name and clung tightly to his chest. The pain was so intense that took my breath away but I loved it.

He pulled my legs around his waist, holding onto my thighs and began to move inside me. My cock was pinned between our stomachs, pressed exquisitely tight. The sensation was so intense I didn’t think I could stand it, but I surrendered to his embrace, finding the rhythm and losing myself.

A low growl came from his throat and his tongue roughly lapped at my collarbone. The teeth sliced the thin skin there and my neck was soon wet with blood.

I couldn’t see his face but the sounds coming from him were inhuman. I closed my eyes tightly, pressing my hips against him desperately and digging my hands into the flesh of his back.

The rhythm faltered and his body tensed, and throwing back his head he gasped as if he were coming up for air after being submerged. The sudden change in the movement of his hips was all it took to push me over the edge and I felt my hot deliverance spread between our stomachs.

Sebastian became still, his breath ragged, shoulders trembling slightly. When his eyes opened they were still reptilian but they found mine and held them with something not unlike affection.

He brushed his lips against mine as his body slid out of me. I gasped at the sudden absence and then relaxed against the bed. The rush of pleasure began to settle leaving me sleepy and content. After a moment where he seemed to be recovering himself, he turned and got up from the bed.

“Don’t go,” I said, my voice weak in my throat. He turned to look at me, pausing, watching me. “Stay with me. Sleep with me?”

He smiled and climbed back onto the bed, nestling behind me, an arm wrapped around my waist. The feeling of his body pressed against mine and his arms holding me made me feel safe.

Safe from the humans who wished me dead while I copulated with a demon who drank my blood and waited to feast on my immortal soul.

 I fell asleep into a dreamless sleep almost immediately.


	13. Assam Black Tea

“Good morning, my Lord,” Sebastian chimed as he opened the velvet drapes, letting in the bright morning light. A tray of tea and toast sat on the side table. He was perfectly pressed and in his butler’s livery again. I watched him as he poured my tea, offering the delicate porcelain cup.

“Today we have an Assam black tea from China,” he waited for me to take the tea but I found I couldn’t move and just stared at him. “Are you unwell, young Master?”

“Sebastian…”

“Yes, my Lord?”

I touched my throat, thinking of the blood, thinking of his touch. I felt myself flush and a slight smile curved on Sebastian’s lips.

“I thought for a moment I might have dreamt last night, but I seem to have a gash on the side of my neck and…” I shifted where I sat, feeling a bit uncomfortable but pleasantly sore.

“No. Not a dream, I’m afraid. And there’s a bit of a bruise. A high collar shirt and cravat are in order for today.”

“I don’t care about the bloody cravat,” I spat.

“You do have several meeting today, my Lord,” he was grinning as he watched me.

I tried to remember what it was like to sleep cradled in his arms. I didn’t know if he had been there all night or if he had slipped out as soon as I fell asleep. It seemed important. I have no idea what he usually did at night, but I couldn’t imagine him sleeping.

“Do you sleep? Did you stay?” I asked.

“Not like you mean, but I do rest.” He paused. “I stayed,” he added softly.

I took the tea and drank a tentative sip.

“I’m glad you stayed.” I held his gaze for a moment and he leaned in to place a soft kiss on my lips before collecting the breakfast tray and leaving for the kitchen.

After a day of tedious meetings with vendors and distributors for Funtom’s holiday season, I was exhausted and feeling anxious. I still had no idea where this American had gone and the idea of hitting the street to do more investigation was more than I could take.

I wrote a quick letter to Her Majesty describing the auction but left out specifics about the American. I paid the courier double to take the letter directly to the palace.

I was going to have to be smart about this one. The American wasn’t the average criminal and I had no intention of letting him gain the upper hand again. I felt foolish for being caught so completely off guard.

The evening post brought a letter from Lau. I hadn’t even thought about him and laughed darkly to myself as I tore the ivory letter opener through the envelope. Obviously he had survived the auction.

_“Dearest Earl,_

_I hope my letter finds you well. Your abrupt departure was most unfortunately and I fear that you missed the interesting part of the evening. Please stop by for tea at your earliest convenience so we can catch up._

_Your humble servant, Lau.”_

“That idiot just wants me to pay for the items he purchased. Well, my earliest convenience is not tonight,” I said mostly to myself, but glancing at Sebastian as he collected the dishes from my evening meal. I had eaten at my desk, still pouring over paperwork from my earlier meetings. Sebastian usually gave me a wide berth when I was engaged in Funtom business, and the holiday season was becoming our busiest time of year.

For a moment I was glad to be in London and to have the townhouse with just Sebastian as staff, but as I watched him straightening my desk, tray of dishes balanced gracefully on one hand, I also felt something else.

“Sebastian, how much work do you have left to do today?”

“My Lord?” he stopped in mid-motion, looking slightly confused.

“When will you stop working?”

“Is this another question about my sleeping habits? This curiosity is a bit out of character for you, sir.”

“I was just thinking that I would rather have your time than I would have three types of tarts for tea tomorrow. It’s just me here and we’re not entertaining or hosting any meetings tomorrow,” I explained, trying not to feel foolish, but managing to anyway.

“This is still the Phantomhive household and you are still the Earl. Therefore, I still have work to do before I rest.” With that, he took the tray and turned to leave.

I caught the fabric of his tailcoat as he passed my chair and gave it a tug, making him stop.

“Very well. I shall be up by ten at the very latest,” he said with an exasperated sigh.


	14. No Trouble At All

Lau was actually busy when I called upon him at the office of his shipping company. He spoke in rapid Chinese to a short man with a long braid of dark hair and crate of what looked like broken jars of tea. Whatever sin this poor man had committed, it appeared to be grave. I doubted it had to do with tea.

When he finally finished and the berated employee scrambled out of his sight, Lau collapsed on a pile of cushions beside his “sister” Ran-Mao. She passed him a long pipe which he thoughtfully engaged thrice before turning to acknowledge me.

“Please, have a seat, Earl Phantomhive,” he said with a nod of his head.

“I hate to interrupt any Kong-Rong business,” I said.

“Not at all. I’m glad you’ve come. When you left so abruptly I was concerned that something had happened, but I am glad to see you unharmed.”

“Yes, well, I did have the pleasure of meeting the grand auctioneer. He intended to eliminate me to improve his business prospects. An American gentleman, apparently.”

“An American? Interesting?”

“Is it? Well, I wish I knew more. What other information do you have for me? You said something about the evening getting a bit more interesting after I had left.” I was hoping for a smooth conversation since Lau seemed particularly lucid this afternoon.

“Don’t you think we should talk about your newly acquired artwork? I took the liberty of paying the auctioneer after you left.”

“I knew it. You bloody thief. I never agreed to buy your blasted artwork.”

“That’s unfortunate. I picked out the chrysanthemum cup specifically for your manor.”

“Fine. I’ll pay for the bloody cup, but that’s all and only because you helped me,” I spat at Lau. “Sebastian, give Lau seven thousand pounds.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Sebastian counted out the sum from a leather billfold and held it up to Lau. Ran-Mao snatched the money away and made it disappear. Lau smiled lazily.

“Do you actually have anything to tell me or am I just here to give you money?”

“Oh, yes. There is one thing,” he said.

“What is it?” The beginnings of frustration were building in me and I felt my hands clench at my side.

“There were a number of similar pieces in the auction, all from the Qing Dynasty as far as I could tell. Obviously poached from the same collection. Someone is sadly missing them, I’m sure. But the two final items were of a different sort. Equally lovely and exotic but far younger and more delicate.”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“Girls,” he said.

“Girls? He auctioned human beings?”

“Indeed. Lovely too, but I’ve never needed to purchase mine. Isn’t that right, Ran-Mao?”

I felt sick thinking about human children being sold in that place. After what had happened to me as a child I was particularly intolerant of slave trafficking.

“How many?”

“Two girls. Young. Chinese,” Lau answered. He seemed easily indifferent to the subject.

“Did you see the winning bidder?”

“Of course I did,” he stroked Ran-Mao’s leg absently.

“Can you describe the man?”

“I could, but he’s sitting here before you,” he answered.

“You? You idiot. You could have told me that to begin with!” I was bordering on furious at this point. “Where are they?”

 “Resting. They’ll be on a ship back to China by the end of the month when my trade crew returns home,” he said.

“You’re sending them home?” A flood of relief washed through me. I hadn’t been entirely sure that Lau was above keeping female slaves, though as he mentioned, women seemed to choose to be near him for some unfathomable reason.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want my sisters to get jealous.”

“Don’t you run a cathouse? You could probably make back your money with young girls like that,” I goaded, though I doubted he would change his story.

“If you’re looking for a girl to entertain you, Young Earl, you only need ask,” he smiled amiably.

“No thank you. I’ll pass for now. Is there anything else?”

“Nothing comes to mind.”

“Fine. Thank you, Lau. I am glad you were there.” I started for the door.

“I’ll have one of my sisters bring your chrysanthemum cup to the townhouse this evening,” he called.

“Not necessary!” I replied.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!”


	15. The Girl in the Red Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You stink like cheap opium and dead whore.”

Stolen artwork from a high quality, possibly royal collection and human trafficking. What else was this American dabbling in? Right, the opium trade too. What a piece of work. It made my head ache to think about it. At least Lau had some semblance of honor in him. That restored my faith in the residents of my underworld somewhat. Even if he was a lecherous idiot.

Sometime close to ten o’clock that evening a girl wearing a red silk cheongsam arrived on my doorstep with a small wooden crate. Sebastian accepted the delivery, shooing the girl away with a few coins for cab fare. I listened to the exchange from the hidden comfort of my study, glad when I heard the door finally close.

“Where shall I put the chrysanthemum cup, sir?” he asked, bringing the crate into the study.

“I don’t care, that thing is hideous,” I waived my hand dismissively and continued with my book. I considered going to bed, but I was enjoying Sebastian’s company as he finished his work for the day. Being alone wasn’t appealing to me when I felt so unsettled.

“I suppose we can take it to the manor and see if it fits any better there,” he said.

“Put it in the bin for all I care.”

“Not much of an antiquities collector, are you? I’ve seen enough human time pass to appreciate when an object manages to survive so much longer than those who crafted it.” He placed the crate gently on a shelf near my desk and continued his activities eliminating every speck of dust from the books and their shelving as he went.

“How old are you, exactly?” I asked, fiercely interested but keeping my gaze on my book.

“Really, this curiosity is very peculiar, Young Master.”

“You don’t know, do you?” I lowered my book just enough to glance at him. He sighed.

“It’s very hard for me to measure time when I am outside of a physical body. Suffice it to say, I am older than the cup on your shelf.”

“You could be anywhere and do anything, why are you in England? Why be here?” I gestured to the house around me.

Sebastian came closer to my chair and knelt down before me. Was my heart beating a little faster? “Your call was strong enough to summon me. I couldn’t resist. This existence is suffering through eternity always looking for points of light in the darkness. Your soul is the brightest light I have ever seen. I would do anything to be close to you.”

I held his gaze for a moment, his eyes dark and surprisingly human. His face was pale perfection, unmoving and somber as a statue carved from marble.

“Sebastian, I think I…” I started to explain when there was a sound at the door. Sebastian’s head turned and I could tell he was listening to something I couldn’t hear.

“Something has been pinned to the door,” he said, standing and striding out to the foyer.

“Who would be out this late?” I wondered out loud. Sebastian swung open the door to reveal the cold darkness of the empty street. He reached to pull the scrap of red that was pinned to the door with a stiletto knife.

“What the devil?”

“It’s silk from the dress Lau’s girl was wearing when she delivered the crate,” Sebastian said frowning slightly as he examined the fabric.

“Go see if you can find whoever did this. The girl is probably dead, but you should look for her anyway.” I headed back into the study to retrieve my pistol, checking to assure it was still loaded. “I’ll be fine,” I spat when he didn’t leave. “Go.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he vanished into the night, moving too fast for me to see. I locked the door behind him and methodically checked the entire townhouse, doors and windows, to assure myself that I was alone and secure.

My nerves were shot but I managed to hold together as I waited for Sebastian to return. I had to figure out how to find this American before he completely turned my underworld upside down.

About three-quarters of an hour later Sebastian returned through the kitchen door, dragging an unconscious man behind him and tossing him into a chair. I didn’t recognize the man, but trusted that he had done something to warrant this treatment.

“The girl was dead. I followed a reaper to her body and found this one trying to dispose of her body in the river,” Sebastian explained.

“The evening wouldn’t be complete without a murder and a run in with reapers. Was anyone else with him?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Wake him.”

Sebastian opened a small amber glass bottle beneath the man’s broken and bloody nose and he jerked back to consciousness. Blood dripped from his face onto the freshly scrubbed wood of the kitchen floor. The man groaned in obvious pain.

“Well,” I said, walking around the man and coming to stop in front of him. “Do you enjoy killing pretty girls?” I asked.

The man took a moment to focus his eyes on me and then made an attempt to stand. Sebastian kept him in the chair with a white-gloved hand resting lightly on his shoulder. He was beginning to panic, blood bubbling from his mouth. I could smell the sickly sweet stench of opium on his clothes.

“Did your boss want the girl dead or was that your own sick idea?” I prompted.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered. By his accent he seemed to be American too.

“Come now. I don’t have all evening.” Sebastian punctuated my statement by squeezing the man’s shoulder, making him wince and sputter more blood on the floor. I watched him with abject distaste on my face. “Tell me why you killed the girl and why you wanted me to know about it, or my butler will break your collarbone.”

“I don’t have no boss! I don’t know about no girl!” he shouted at me, his wild eyes showing a lot of white.

“Sebastian…”

The screaming was unfortunate but once he was finished and once I convinced him to speak coherently through his blubbering, he admitted to dealing with an American, though either his mind had been beaten to mush or he truly didn’t have any knowledge beyond being paid to watch Lau. He followed the girl to the townhouse when she left the brothel with the foolish crate. I would have to write Lau first thing tomorrow with the news that his establishment would be one girl short.

Sadly the extent of the man’s injuries and the annoyance of his screaming were too severe for him to return to the greasy shadows from whence he scurried and Sebastian had to drop him at the undertaker's instead. After the grisly task was done, Sebastian returned to the study where I sat reading with my pistol still balanced on my knee. He stripped off his soiled gloves and gave a considering appraisal of his tailcoat.

“Brandy,” I said, not looking up from the page. “And a bath, I think.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Perhaps for both of us.” I looked him over. “You stink like cheap opium and dead whore.”

 “The whore was no doubt expensive,” he smirked.

“Hmm. I still don’t care for it. I expect you to be in that hot bathwater by the time I finish this chapter.” I turned back to my book but I couldn’t force my eyes to see the words there. My mind was already otherwise occupied. I counted to ten and slowly set down the book, keeping the pistol. I wasn’t ready to completely let my guard down even though the danger seemed to have passed. I could hear water filling the porcelain tub. My heart started to race.


	16. Fire and Death

I ascended the stairs slowly, letting my anticipation build. The bathroom that adjoins my bedroom is small but lushly appointed with fine Italian tile and a large claw foot tub. My eyes swept across the floor, first seeing a trail of black clothing followed by a soiled white shirt, then slowly to the tub to take in the stark combination of raven black hair clinging wetly to white marble cheeks. My eyes moved down to the long, slender throat, the broad shoulders and a chest that made my hands clench into fists just remembering how it felt to touch.

He watched me blankly, only the slightest twitch of an eyebrow – and the impressive speed with which he managed to get into that tub- letting me know that I interested him. I set my pistol on the sideboard and began the tedious task of undressing myself. I felt frustrated with the number of buttons, buckles and knots that stood between me and that bath. The more I struggled and the more flustered I became, and the more amusement registered on Sebastian’s face.

Finally I shed all of my trappings and eased into the sinfully hot water, nestling myself against his slick body, resting my head back against his chest. I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding as his arms wrapped around me. I felt at ease for the first time all evening and let my eyes close.

A sharp kiss to my throat let me know he was interested in his own kind of comfort, to which I happily submitted. I found that I welcomed his teeth and that the anticipation of having his mouth on my skin; hearing the sound of his breath when the skin finally broke under the pressure of his bite and the first taste of blood hits his tongue. His arms tightened around me, pulling me against his chest, stirring the water and making it slosh over the edge of the tub. I can feel his cock stiffen against my ass and my breath catches in my throat.

The hot water or the blood loss, or maybe just being so close to him is making me dizzy and I am a broken doll in his arms. He breaks the vampiric kiss long enough to whisper against my ear, “You intoxicate me.” He runs his tongue across the fresh wound and I shiver against him.

“Your blood…” he begins to say, but finishes in a moan as I press myself against his cock. Just thinking about the way it filled me, the pressure and the feeling of being so thoroughly helpless and dominated made me grind against him harder. His tongue worked into the open wound at my throat, his mouth sucking and exploring like he wants to eat me alive. The pain is sharp and makes me bite my lip, savoring the ache, feeling an echoing ache in my cock.

Like some kind of bloody spiritualist mind reader, his hand begins to move from my chest to my tight stomach and then those long, thin fingers wrap around my shaft. My head slammed back against his chest and I am insensible as he starts to slowly stroke me.

My mind has gone blank. I am completely taken by the sensation of his body against mine and the movement of his hands. My eyes are squeezed shut because I know if I see his slim hands with their black-tipped fingers running along the length of my organ I will come completely unhinged. I hear a pitiful whine and I recognize somewhere in my dissolving mind that it’s my own voice saying his name over and over.

I feel a sharp pain on my stomach and snap my eyes open to see claws with shining black talons where his hands once were. Fear shoots through me like the lead bullet that I’ve so often dodged. My body clenches, muscles seizing and I try to look behind me but he’s holding me tight and I can’t move. My breath is coming in short pants now and I feel light headed, but his hand, his massive clawed fist is pumping me and squeezing my mind into oblivion. His sharp kiss, just above my collarbone, has me reaching my edge and it’s so painful, so perfect. I feel the skin on my abdomen start to give under the points of his talons and the blood begins to flow.

There’s a rumble coming from his chest, vibrating through my back, shaking through my viscera. In a moment those claws will be inside me, spilling my entrails into the pink bathwater. He’s about to tear me apart, his jaws latched onto my throat. I can’t breathe and my vision is starting to fade into blackness, but his hand is still moving and that rolling, building sensation is still growing. My body is dying, my mind is recoiling, but I’m coming into his hand, screaming his name and bucking against his chest like a trapped animal.

He holds me still, his hands still touching, but gently now; as if he knows that every inch of my skin is a raw nerve. I shiver and let go. His arms are the only thing keeping my head above water. I still can’t open my eyes, but I am completely uncaring whether or not this is the moment of my death. I would go willingly into hell as long as it was in his arms.

If I concentrate, I can feel the slowing rhythm of his heart against my back and feel the slight rise and fall of his breath. He reaches up to brush the hair away from my face where sweat and bathwater have plastered it. He places a soft kiss along my jaw and I can feel his breath against my skin. He rests here as if he’s content to spend the rest of eternity holding me here in this cooling water. It’s not an awful thought.

When my eyes do lazily open I can see the bathwater is red now and my stomach and chest have been marked with long, angry scratches. The hands that hold me are human again; or as human as they ever were with their perpetually black nails and the emblazoned sign of our covenant. I wince when I try to move, sucking in a harsh breath. Sebastian seems to wake from whatever plane of demonic euphoria he had fallen into and sees my body in his embrace.

“Ciel…” he whispers. “What have I done?”

“Sebastian, I…” I try again, wanting so desperately to voice the pain and the fear in my heart, but he stops me by moving from behind me, unsettling me from the comfort of his embrace. He is wrapping me in a plush white towel and picking me up out of the water. His face is a white sculpture stained with my blood. His hair is still damp and swiped back from his face with an impatient hand. The water that drips from his body is red and his body looks pink.

I throw back my head and I am laughing even as he carried me into my bedroom and places me onto the soft bed. I watch his sinfully immaculate naked form walk back into the bathroom and even my completely spent cock twitches at the sight. It’s such an unexpected departure from his carefully covered and put-together self that I can’t get enough and I am drinking him with my eyes as he returns with a clean cloth and some sort of medical ointment to nurse my wounds. I wave his hands away as he assesses the damage he has inflicted.

“The only thing I need is your body against mine,” I say softly.

“Ciel, I think I nearly killed you,” he says quietly, eyebrows knitting together in a look of concern that would be comical to me on any other day.

“You’ll have to try harder next time.”

His lips are on mine and I let my hands roam his body as thoroughly as my eyes had moments earlier. I’m pulling on him, begging him with moans and whimpers against his mouth until he finally relents and falls onto the bed with me. He tastes like blood and something else, something earthy and completely intoxicating to me. I can’t get enough and I’m sucking and biting at his tongue until he starts to moan against me. His cock is as hard as marble, pressing into my hip, rocking against me, begging for release. I’m letting myself ponder what it would feel like in my mouth , what it would taste like, when he starts to pull away. He’s panting, his face is flushed, but I’ve managed to clean off most of the blood.

I’ve sworn myself to serve you and protect you from harm and I now find myself in a situation where I pose the greatest threat to your safety.” His words are surprisingly eloquent considering he was moaning incoherently seconds earlier.

“You won’t hurt me,” I murmur against the pure whiteness of his throat.

“I already have,” he says flatly.

“I’m not complaining.” I bite down on the flesh under my lips and his head falls back, a shaky breath releases from his chest. “I had no idea I could affect you like this. Where’s your supernatural composure?” I bite down again, harder, and he’s making fists with his long hands.

“If I lose control I could kill you,” he whispers.

“Why does that matter? It’s going to happen one day regardless of what we do now. Why not die like this?” I emphasize my statement by biting down on his chest just above his small and perfectly pink nipple.

“I never intended to be the one who ended your life. Only to be there…angh…only to be there,” he closed his eyes. His words dissolved into unclear sounds, and I know I have him.

I straddle his waist and press my palms flat against his chest. His body is tight, strung together with perfect muscles like he studied an anatomy book or the artwork of the Renaissance masters before coming into being. He rolls his head against the white covers of the bed like he’s in the grip of a fever.

I lean down and place a kiss on the center of his chest, watching the way his brow worried and his lips parted to take in more air. Seeing his so utterly gone, so completely unguarded was driving me insane. He was so devastatingly sublime that I couldn’t help myself as I ran my mouth across his chest, tasting him, testing the flesh with my teeth and relishing each sound that my touch elicited.

When I reach the plane of his stomach, I see that his red eyes are locked onto me like a big cat observing prey. My tongue traces the maddening valley of his hipbones and my hands are digging into his thighs to keep me grounded and present because the smell of his skin and the feeling of his flesh in my mouth is making me drunk. The need to feel him in my mouth is overwhelming and I let my mouth brush against the stiff length of him. The skin feels deliciously soft on my lips and tongue. I place a hesitant kiss on the rounded head and then let it slide into my open mouth on the next thrust of his impatient hips.

“Argh…I don’t,” he said, trying to find himself. “I don’t know how you’re doing this to me.”

I don’t pause to ask what he means, but I put the comment aside to ponder further when I don’t have a writhing mess underneath me.

My mouth works its way down the not insignificant length of him and when I reach as far as I think I can, I take a tentative swallow that causes his back to arch. His hands rest lightly on my head as I begin to work him in and out of my mouth. The taste of his skin is concentrated here and I relish every swallow as I learn how to keep a rhythm while his distracting fingers are digging into my hair.

I feel euphoric, in this warm position between his transcendent thighs, in this place where I feel I am at worship. It seems like no time has passed before his body is starting to go still and the growling sound comes from chest, letting me know how close to the surface his beast is rising. He’s speaking but I can’t understand the sounds hissing around his teeth.

“…angh…et in hora…hora mortis…meae venti…”

And the fire that fills my mouth is almost too much to bear, but I take it all into me and savor the salty burn against the back of my throat. I keep my mouth on him even as he tries to pull me back away. I’m starting to feel dizzy and then the blackness has taken me. I think I hear my name, but everything is swallowed by the ocean of sound that’s suddenly filling my ears, and I’m gone.


	17. Torture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But my attempt at decency is only making him smile.

The argent morning light is searing through my eyelids and I can feel my head pound before I even open my eyes. I expect to hear the easy clack of the tea service as Sebastian sets down my breakfast tray, but I hear the rustle of bedding next to me instead.

“Good morning, Young Master,” Sebastian says, but instead of his crisp butler’s livery he is clothed in a white sheet, propped up on an elbow and looking at me from a few inches away.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I say, but regret it immediately when a spike of pain ignites in my skull.

“You lost consciousness, I couldn’t leave,” he explains.

“That seems like a thin excuse,” but my attempt at decency is only making him smile.

“You seem to be in pain. I’m not entirely sure what happened.”

“That’s reassuring. Am I going to have to get my own tea?” I ask with a glare only to receive a kiss to my aching brow.

“Of course not, my Lord.”

That smile and seeing that sinfully pale body get up from my bed and walk out of the room with no concern for his state of undress is perhaps worth the aftermath of the evening.

In less time that I imagine it takes to boil water, Sebastian returns to my bedroom with a tray of tea and toast, dressed in his crisp butler’s livery. I suffer a slight pang of disappointment seeing him covered but fall comfortably into my role as master of the house. I take the tea cup and glance at the news.

“How are you feeling now, young master?”

I take a moment to assess the aching in my head and the sharp stinging pain of my chest and stomach. “I’m fine. What is my agenda for today?”

He tilts his head to the side and seems to be appraising me. I have no idea what he sees and feel slightly unsettled by his scrutiny.

“What are you gawking at?”

“You seem to be largely undamaged.”

“Are you going to be of any help to me today, or should I prepare to dress myself?”

“If you are experiencing dizziness or excessive pain, perhaps you should remain at rest for the remainder of the day.” The way that he avoids my questions is annoyingly endearing and I fight a smile as I respond.

“Don’t be daft. I’m not staying in bed all day. Now, find me a suit and quit playing nursemaid.”

“As you wish,” he bows and turns to select clothing from my dressing room.

It is troubling me that I seemed to have suffered from some sort of affliction, losing consciousness at the same moment that…but what did that mean? And what did he mean when he said he wasn’t sure what happened? I knew for a fact that he had lain with several mortal humans since being in my service and there is no conceivably way that anything upon this earth is new or unexpected to him.

So why did he seem nearly as confused as I was? Well, there’s nothing for it today. Business still needs to be attended to, both Funtom and Phantomhive. This was one mystery too many for my already troubled mind.

I finished the tea and choked down a piece of toast, though I almost never eat to break my fast. Perhaps it will settle my stomach and ease the pain in my skull.

Thankfully the day was relatively quiet. I already had fairly reliable staff in both branches of Funtom making and distributing my toys and confections, and as we neared the end of the year, there was less for me to do beyond accepting reports that business ticked on and profits were appropriate if not exceptional this season. I was thankful when I could retire to my study with my thoughts and a cup of tea.

Shortly after dark that quiet reprieve was broken when Harrison Alden, Lau’s young smuggler, knocked on the back entrance to the kitchen. Lurking in the shadows behind the house like the cockroach that he was.

“You had best not be bringing me any more hideous antiques. I’m sure you heard how the last delivery went,” I said by way of greeting.

Alden settled into a kitchen chair, cocking one foot against the rail and taking a thoughtful drag from his ever-present cigarette. “Lucky for you, I’m no whore. But I did bring you some information. Lau would have come himself, but he’s still a bit distraught with the way you treated his sister.”

“It was unfortunate but I did tell him not to send anyone. It’s his own fault,” I spat.

Alden tsked and flicked some ash from his cigarette onto the floor. I caught a scowl flicker across Sebastian’s features. “Far be it from me to get between two great men such as yerselves. I am but a humble servant,” Alden said and touched his chest with mock sincerity.

“Out with it. I don’t have all evening to listen to you babble.”

 “So demanding. I knew there was a reason I chose the criminal life instead of being a member of high society.” Another thoughtful drag on the cigarette. “Well, it seems that you’ve angered that Yankee bastard enough that he is sending his troops after us. Thugs came to kill Lau. He’s in his secret hidey hole with his sister,” Alden said.

“What happened?” I knew asking flat out was playing into Alden’s ego, but I had no patience to verbally maneuver with him. The American had decided to flex his muscle, and it was time for me to act.

It took all of my self-control not to slap the cigarette from his face as he sneered at me and made me wait for the information. I found myself wishing he wasn’t an ally so a little torture could speed up the conversation.

“Nothing really. Just half a dozen armed men shaking up the girls at the Lotus Blossom. Lau got out and the damage was minimal, you’ll be pleased to know.”

Apparently Lau had been connected to his brothel by the American. It wasn’t a brilliant bit of investigation, but it was still problematic. “What of the men?” I asked.

“We knew you’d be interested in talking to ‘em so we left one with a working tongue.” Alden smiled and flicked his spent cigarette to the floor as he stood. “Shall we, then?”

I waited for Sebastian to run a small hand broom over the kitchen floor around the area where Alden sat, and then he fetched my coat and hat. Alden had a cab waiting for us and we bumped and halted our way through the early evening traffic toward the East End and the garishly appointed Lotus Blossom. The outside was plaster and paint done up to look like the Westerner’s idea of a Chinese palace. The inside wasn’t much better, but the lighting was low enough for me to conveniently ignore the red lacquer and golden dragons covering every surface. The establishment was nearly empty aside from three girls cleaning broken glass and debris from the floor. There had obviously been a bit of a scuffle here.

Alden led us through the mess to a back room where an extremely bloody and agitated man was bound and perched on a ceramic stool.

Looking at him, he was a beast of a man. I could see why he was still alive. His shoulders were as wide as the doorway and he was probably just tall enough to have to duck. He looked comical tied with silk rope and surrounded by this gaudy excess.

“Here’s what is going to happen,” I said. “You are going to tell me who your boss is and where he is and I won’t get angry.”

He had the gall to laugh, but I was accustomed to being underestimated. “What are you gonna do, little prince?” he asked. His voice was deep but quiet. He was used to his size doing the intimidation. I, conversely, was used to having to use my voice when my small stature proved ineffectual.

“I could think of something creative, but I already tire of our exchange, so I’ll probably just start by breaking your fingers and moving on to larger appendages until I get what I came here for.”

“I know who you are. You’re the Queen’s pup. I ain’t afraid of you or your British royals. To hell with all of you,” he said. He was still calm and looked me in the eye as he spoke. I was already dreading the sounds of his screaming. I sighed and shifted my gaze ever so slightly to Sebastian. Fingers make relatively little noise when they break, but the screaming was of course loud enough.

“Anything else smart to say?” I asked. My voice sounded nearly as weary as I felt.

“You son of a whore!” he screamed. Another finger snapped in response.

“You only have eight more insults before it’s your elbow. I would consider your words more carefully.”

“Do the coppers know this is how you do your business for the Queen?” he asked. He was breathing hard but still looking at me. Another break and there were flecks of white foam around the corners of his mouth from his shouts.

“Is this too barbarous for a tender lout such as yourself? Why not tell me who you’re working for and save us both this grief?”

“And get myself killed?”

I leaned in closer. “Your choice. I can kill you in pieces , or give you a quick shot to the head. Either way you’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

Maybe it was something he saw on my face, or it was shock setting in from the three broken fingers, but his eyes turned glassy and he started to nod. The realization that he had no reason to fear the American when his life was ending here must have finally taken hold.

“Ok. Ok.  I knew I wasn’t going to get out of here after the others were taken out. It’s just as well. Please just make it a clean shot and I’ll tell you everything you want to know. “

“You have my word,” I said. I caught a glimpse of Alden’s stunned face before the man began to pour it out.


	18. Mr. Crawford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fine, but how are we going to find a reaper? Wait around for another murder?

The American’s name was Thomas Crawford. He was a student of archaeology and a sometime professor at Boston College in Massachusetts. He had a lust for artifacts that took him out of the libraries and to the Far East. It wasn’t long before he decided that it was easier to go digging into tombs to find his treasures than to acquire permission and funding for his expeditions. Robbing the dead was not only lucrative but also allowed him to go where he pleased regardless of any pesky legality. No wonder his collection at the auction was so outstanding. It had come from a palace, only it was a palace appointed for the afterlife.

Crawford was obsessed with his digs. Every other avenue of income, the drugs and the children and the random theft, they were all meant to fund his next expedition. Of course Europe was where most of the money was. He had even sold artifacts to the British Museum. Lau, the smoke-saturated simpleton that he was, was one of the few who recognized what the treasures actually were.

We left Alden at the brothel to clean up and took a cab back to the townhouse. The rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones and the motion of the carriage lulled me into a state of overwhelming tiredness. I barely registered that my head had dropped against Sebastian’s shoulder until he began speaking. The vibration of his voice startled me, but I stayed where I rested.

“The Chinese believe that the spirits of the dead can linger, particularly if there has been an injustice. Violating the resting places of the dead is no light matter. Spirits are often trapped in dark places,” he said.

“Are there really spirits trapped on earth?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I thought the reapers took care of that?”

“Not always. It’s not always possible to disconnect a soul from the body.”

“Not even for a demon?”

“I’m afraid that once life leaves the body the soul spoils very quickly. I shudder to think what the spirits trapped in a four-thousand year old tomb would be like,” his hand rested on mine comfortingly and I let myself drift toward sleep again.

Back home and armed with some of the information I had been seeking; my mind was busy with questions though my body was weary. I knew that Crawford would learn the fate of his men soon if he didn’t already. I was tempted to find him tonight and try to finish this mess, but wanted to let him fester for a while as I made my own plans. Now that I had a clearer idea of what sort of criminal I was dealing with I felt more confident that a solution would present itself. Then there was the concern of the stolen artifacts. I thought about what Sebastian had said about the spirits of the dead. I wanted to dismiss the idea as nonsense, more of that spiritualist claptrap that was so popular now, but Sebastian was incapable of lying to me. At the very least, he believed it to be true. A tomb was the bridge between this world and the next, if any of the mythology was to be believed.

I glanced at the small wooden box on my bookshelf that held the chrysanthemum cup. Where did the ugly thing come from? Whose tomb was it snatched form?

Sebastian came into the study with a glass of brandy on a silver tray and set it on the small table beside me. He followed my gaze and also considered the box.

“I had wondered the same thing,” he said quietly. “I must admit that something strange has happened in this house since the cup arrived.”

I bristled at the comment. “What does that mean?” Was he regretting what happened last night? My mind flashed to the glimpse of vulnerability that he had shown me. My need to touch him was overwhelming. I picked up the glass of brandy and brought it to my lips instead.

“I nearly killed you last night. I would consider that unusual.” There was the slightest hint of color on his face. If I didn’t know better I would think he was getting flustered.

“What is ‘usual’ then?” I asked. I let the brandy warm me and numb the stinging sensation in my mind.

He took a moment to consider. His eyes roamed my face and then finally held my gaze. “I’ve never hurt anyone in the _act of love_ , nor have I ever felt anything significant.”

That last word, ‘significant,’ burned into my chest as he said it. Forget that this conversation was completely inappropriate and bordering on surreal.

“Do you mean…pleasure?” I asked.

“No,” he said simply, a slight grin animating his face. “I am quiet adept at finding pleasure in this form.”

My face was on fire but I kept my eyes locked to his.

Significant. He said. This being who had seen and done more than I could imagine.

“What…what do you mean, then?” I asked.

“For a moment I lost myself.” He stopped and shook his head. “No. It was more than a moment.” He placed a brief kiss on my brow, right where I felt the pain from my growing headache, and then left the study.

It wasn’t just the cup, was it? No, I had felt this days ago, when I first cut my hand. There had been a spark then, hadn’t there? But not the pain. He was right about that much. What the hell did it mean?

Significant. The word echoed in my brain.

I took a slip of paper off my desk and wrote a quick note to Alden. I needed to talk to Lau. I needed to know more about the jade cup that had invaded my home. And if there was something strange connected to it, I needed to know how much it had affected Sebastian. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to know if his ‘significant’ feelings were supernaturally influenced, but I needed to know.

That night my room was my own and it took my troubled mind a long while to finally give in to sleep. For the six hours of sleep I had, I felt completely cheated of any actual rest. I blinked into the grey filtered sunlight of the December morning and watched Sebastian pour a fragrant cup of tea. The careful white gloves against the silver tea service and the delicate china cup. He caught me looking and smiled. The little turn of the lip, just for me.

“Was there a note from Lau this morning?” I asked.

“No, my Lord.”

“Nothing to distract me from this Crawford mess,” I said under my breath. I caught the slightest twitch of Sebastian’s eyebrow as he handed me the cup of tea. I chose to ignore the thought and tried to focus on the problems before me.

“I had a thought, but perhaps it’s not the most savory idea,” Sebastian said.

“Oh?”

“We could bring the chrysanthemum cup to a reaper and see if it could detect any spiritual attachment that I perhaps cannot.”

I was surprised that he would volunteer to interact with that lot. He must be truly concerned about the cup’s effect in this house. The thought made me hear that word again: _significant._ I supposed any help we could get was welcome.

“Fine, but how are we going to find a reaper? Wait around for another murder?”

“It won’t be a problem,” he said.


	19. Hello Ghostie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m afraid I am in no mood for amusements.

An hour later we arrived at the Undertaker’s parlor. The proprietor was finishing with his current customer, a former gentleman in a fine suit but a distinct lack of color in his face. The Undertaker arranged the man’s arms carefully across his chest and stood back to admire his work.

“Ah! I bid ye welcome, Earl Phantomhive!” he crooned when he finally looked up from the corpse. “Did your butler bring me another broken customer?”

“Not this time, Undertaker.”

“Please, have a seat! Have some tea. I don’t get many talkative guests.”

“No, I imagine not.” I sat on the edge of a casket, trying not to wonder if it was occupied, and regarded the strange man before me. His gray hair was very long and obscured part of his face. His clothing was primarily black but dusty and tattered and his face held that same sort of ageless quality that Sebastian’s had, though it was marked with scars. There was an almost overwhelming smell of chemicals and death, but I was accustomed to these peculiarities. The man had been useful to me and my father before me so it was worth a few oddities.

“Have you brought me anything? Some amusing joke perhaps? Hee hee hee!” The undertaker busied himself making tea with some suspiciously filthy looking vessels.

“I’m afraid I am in no mood for amusements.”

“Ye never are, Lord Earl,” he said.

“I’ll get to the point. I know you are detached from the reapers, but I hoped you might have some insight on the subject of earthbound spirits.”

“Earthbound spirits, you say? My, that’s an odd topic. Do you mean like this one that’s followed you into my parlor?” The Undertaker cocked his head to the side and looked at me with his wide grin.

“What the devil are you talking about?” I couldn’t help but look behind me. All I saw was a dark room filled with the clutter of the death business and a confused butler also regarding me curiously.

“The spirit. Hello, Ghostie! Hee hee hee!”

“Explain this nonsense. Are you in the habit of seeing things that aren’t there?” My initial fear reaction was simmering comfortably into anger. Sebastian placed a hand on my shoulder.

“I think the Undertaker can sense what has recently attached itself to you, my Lord,” Sebastian said. His deep voice worked to calm me and helped me to think more clearly.

“Yessss. Just so. Master Butler is quite perceptive. Something quite old and rather faint, but definitely there. He is attached to you good. Hee hee hee!”

“What is it? How do I get rid of it?”

“You’re askin’ the wrong questions, Lord Earl!” he said and dissolved into a fit of laughter. “You know my price. Give me something and I’ll tell ye what I know!”

Sebastian squeezed my shoulder gently. “Allow me, young master.” He leaned in and whispered to the Undertaker behind a gloved hand for several moments before the creature exploded with laughter once again, kicking his boots against the floor boards.

“Stop! Stop! That’s too much! Hee hee hee!”

“Now speak! Tell me what in the bloody hell you see, Undertaker!” I shouted at the man writhing on the floor.

“Alright! Hee hee! Did you recently rob any graves, by chance? Or maybe broke an old mirror or a clay pot?”

“I’ve acquired a Chinese antiquity that I now suspect was stolen from a tomb,” I said.

“Yesss…Chinese!” He cocked his head again and looked at me. “Could be! He is old, but not ancient. Not much left to him but violence and nasty thoughts. If he’s been around high emotions, he may be growing stronger.”

“High emotions?” Sebastian asked.

“Hate, lust, fear. Anger, Lord Earl.” He had the gall to wink at me when he said it.

“How do I get rid of it?” I asked. If this thing was feeding off my emotions, it was bound to have had quite a feast at my expense.

“You could try being pleasant for a change. Hee hee hee!”

“Be serious. Can you communicate with this spirit?”

“That’s not my area. I only deal with them once they’re clean and empty.” He lovingly patted the arm of the dead gentleman closest to where he sat.

“This is useless,” I said, standing up and heading for the door.

“Thank you for visiting, Lord Earl. I do hope you’ll let me measure you for a box someday soon. I’m saving the very best blue velvet to line it. Yesss…” Sebastian closed the door before I could hear the rest of the Undertaker’s morbid nonsense. A complete lunatic.

I suppose that my only hope now was to see if Lau had sent a reply while we were gone. Of course he hadn’t, but what I did find was another note from the queen.

_Earl Phantomhive,_

_We wish to have another update on the ongoing situation you have so kindly agreed to investigate. We trust that all is well and that any additional affairs of illicit commerce occurring in the East End have been dealt with._

_-V_

I sighed as I set the letter on my desk and tried to calm my rising anger and frustration. I could just imagine the invisible spirit sucking up my negative energy and getting larger and more problematic. The next time I saw Crawford I was going to shove a vengeful spirit right down his throat.

“You’ve been quiet since we left the Undertaker’s. What’s your take on this?” I asked Sebastian as he returned with his silver tray. He said nothing while he poured the tea and set the cup on my desk.

“My opinion is of little consequence,” he said offhandedly.

“Sebastian, I’m not sure that I care for the tone you’re taking with me,” I replied.

“Apologies, my Lord,” he said, bowing slighting before taking the tray and returning to the kitchen. I wasn’t at all satisfied with the apology and my mind burned with the implications behind his words. Since when was my devil so moody? I didn’t care for it at all. 

I found myself searching the air around me as I drank my tea but found no indication that I wasn’t alone aside from my growing paranoia.

When Sebastian returned to collect my empty tea cup I grabbed a hold of his wrist and held it until his red eyes turned to meet mine.

“How am I to be rid of this spirit?” I asked quietly. “Because I don’t know if I can keep away from you.” As I held his eyes I could almost sense the battle that was happening beneath that calm surface. I pushed my fingers under the cuff of his shirt to feel the warm skin of his wrist and felt a jolt of electricity shoot through my arm. I gasped and he pulled back his wrist.

“Will you talk to me?” I asked. I was practically begging. Earl Phantomhive, begging a servant. Well, it was a lesser sin amongst many.

Before he could respond, there was a knock at the kitchen door and Sebastian left me to investigate. I let out a breath of frustration and followed after him. Most days I didn’t think it, but as I crept into the kitchen like a child trying to overhear an adult conversation, I was glad that my father wasn’t around to see me.

Alden entered the kitchen first, followed by Lau and Ran-Mao. My relief at seeing them must have been evident on my face because Alden was sneering as he took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs.

“Earl Phantomhive, it’s good to see you are still unharmed. This had been quite an ordeal,” Lau said.

“Thank you for coming. I’m glad to see you are also well. How is your business recovering?”

“Up and running again,” Lau said. “Though my sisters are still a little skittish.”

“Thank you for allowing me to question one of the men, it was very helpful. I need to discuss some new information with you. Let’s retire to the study where it’s more comfortable,” I said.

Lau bowed slightly and waited for me to lead the way.  “Alden, why don’t you help Master Butler while I chat with the Little Earl.” Alden bristled at the order but said nothing.

“I know the crook’s name now,” I said once we had settled into the study in front of the fireplace. Ran-Mao perched on Lau’s knee and blinked at me. “Thomas Crawford of Boston. Grave robber, archaeologist and all around pain in my arse.”

“Alden did tell me some of it. It seems that you really have a knack for questioning prisoners.” Lau’s eyes settled closed and he seemed to be contented from the fireplace warmth and closeness of his body guard.

“I’ve had much practice over the years, unfortunately. He was very cooperative, and at least now we know who this American is.”

“For what good it does us. He’s no longer here. My sources say that he’s left England.”

“Left? Returned to America?” My heart sank. Did I wait too long to strike?

“I think not.” Lau tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe and settled back against the chair.

“Another expedition? “

Lau shrugged. It was a casual gesture even for him and it set off the smallest spark of anger to kindle what had been building while we talked. I thought about the spirit again and tried to quell the emotion.

“I should have struck as soon as I knew where the bastard was,” I said.

“Perhaps,” Lau said. “There’s nothing for it now. The danger seems to have passed for the time being.”

“There’s no doubt that he’ll be back. This is unfinished business.” I hate unfinished business. I settled back into my own chair and gazed at the fire.

“Something else is vexing you, Young Earl. I have sensed a change in you.”

There had been a few changes in me recently, but I knew which I wanted to ask Lau about. “What do you know about earthbound spirits?” I asked. Even though I knew that something had attached itself to me, or to the townhouse at the very least, I still felt foolish talking about it.

“That which burns is fire, while that which overflows is water. Over there, that which is atop the burning flames; it is none other than that which fills the empty stomach for me who must labor tirelessly day and night,” said Lau.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“What were you saying?” Lau asked waking from a stupor.

“I asked what you knew about earthbound spirits.” My patience was wearing thinner by the second.

“Does this have anything to do with your recent purchase?”

“I think so.” Something was going on, certainly.

“That is a powerful object,” Lau said, petting Ran-Mao’s nearly bare leg thoughtfully.

“I never wanted it in the first place!” I spat. I started to realize how much of this mess actually was Lau’s fault. “Can’t you take it back?”

Lau shook his head slowly. “It belongs to you now.”

“Can you help me get rid of this spirit or whatever the hell is tormenting me?”

“We could perhaps try to trap the spirit back in the vessel. What does Master Butler have to say about this spirit?” Lau asked as Sebastian brought in a tray with tea and a few small sandwiches.

“Sebastian has nothing to do with this,” I said defensively.

“Oh, my mistake,” Lau said with a lazy smile. Sebastian returned to the kitchen without a word. I felt a pull in my chest at his absence.

“How do we do it? I want this thing-whatever it is-gone. There’s enough for me to worry about without this added annoying distraction.”

“Really.” Lau seemed to lapse into a state of deep thought, or perhaps some kind of stupor. When he spoke again Sebastian had returned to the study to stand dutifully behind me and Alden stood by the fire lighting another cigarette.

“We have a séance,” Lau said finally.


	20. The Seance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is great evil present...

“You can’t be serious. That spiritualism garbage has been proven to be fake time and again,” I sneered at the suggestion.

“It is no fad, Lord Earl. In China we have communed with spirits for centuries.”

“Well, I am not paying a charlatan to feed me nonsense. It will do nothing but frustrate me further.”

“Indeed.” Lau smirked and I regretted my phrasing. “Should you change your mind…”

“Fine. What do you have in mind?” I asked feeling defeated and giving in sooner than I meant to.

“Only the best, of course. Leave the preparations to me.”

Lau and his companions departed leaving a heavy silence in the house. Sebastian had immediately returned to the kitchen to complete his preparations for the next day. I felt myself following him as if in a trance. I lingered in the doorway watching as he worked, feeling numb and empty. Hating that my biggest enemy at that moment was invisible and largely undefined.

I watched his broad shoulders and his narrow waist, snug in the confines of his vest, its watch chain clicking slightly when he moved. He had removed his tailcoat, hanging it carefully before rolling the sleeves of his shirt. He shifted silently and moved with such perfect meditation that I was mesmerized. Taller and longer of limb than I would ever be and skilled at every task he endeavored. From cooking to killing. Even from this distance I could pick up the subtle smell of him. Clove and smoke, cider and frost, blood and desire.

“I could order you to speak to me,” I said finally when I could stand the silence no longer.

“You could,” was his quiet reply.

“I don’t understand, Sebastian.”

When he said no more and my heart ached to the point of complete exhaustion, I left him to his silent work and retired to my bedroom. I fell into a restless sleep full of dream spirits that plagued me and filled me with terror. In the darkness I woke to feel arms around me and a calming kiss to my brow, though I was unsure if it was only another dream sent to torment me.

The morning brought a note from Lau extending an invite to his private rooms for the seance. I glared at the note as I held the warm porcelain cup full of fragrant tea, but could think of no better option. At least the hoaxer wouldn’t be coming to my own townhouse. That could be unseemly. I sighed and resigned myself to further annoyance at the hands of that dope fiend Lau.

When the Fox sisters claimed to have contacted the spirits of the dead in their New York home through a code of rapping and tapping sounds, the spiritualist movement was born. However, in England we seem to have far more rogue spirits flitting about, and the movement took hold with a furry that infected every noble household in London. Thankfully the sisters were eventually found out a number of years ago to have been causing the sounds themselves with no assistance of the netherworld, only through their own cleverness and questionable ideas of entertainment.

Even after being completely discredited, countless other so-called mediums appeared all over London and in parlors and drawing rooms across England. There were rumors that even the Queen had employed the talents of such a person to communicate with the spirit of her dearly departed husband, Albert.

I personally had no need for such nonsense. The dead were gone as far as I had seen any evidence and the presence of reapers and demons seemed to solidify the fact that there weren’t many spirits left to wander this miserable world. However, if what Sebastian had told me about earthbound spirits, and what the Undertaker would also lead me to believe, there was something present yet unseen in my immediate environment.

The woman that Lau had contracted to conduct our spiritual experiment was a medium who had gained some measure of renown in London. Known by the name of Florence Cook, the medium is said to have a direct link to the spirit world through a spirit known as Katie King. The spiritualist would chat with her invisible partner until the desired information was obtained and the paying customers were satisfied with the spectral evidence produced.

In a silent cab, Sebastian and I rode to Lau’s private rooms above his plush establishment in the East End. I swear I could smell the sickly stink of opium before we even exited the vehicle. Sebastian carried the small wooden box that contained the cursed chrysanthemum cup as we ascended the stairs and I rapped on the wooden door with the head of my walking stick.  

The room beyond was bereft of light save for a single flame burning in the center of the small round table. Incense filled the air with its cloying fragrance, making my chest heavy and my head light. Seated before us was woman with her face veiled with a black scarf. She appeared as an apparition herself in the dim light, her features barely recognizable as human beneath the shroud.

“Please, Earl Phantomhive, have a seat,” Lau spoke from the shadows where he lounged, waiting on his plush cushions. I stepped closer to the table, pausing to allow Sebastian to take my coat, hat and walking stick, and then reached for the chair.

“Wait…”hissed the woman under the veil. I stopped and regarded her silently. Lau had risen to take his place at the table with Ran-Mao hovering behind him like a half-dressed doll.

“What is it, Madame?” Lau inquired. He watched me rather than her when he asked.

“There is great evil present,” she pronounced.   

“Really,” I said. Sebastian came to stand behind me.

The medium turned slowly toward Lau. “If we proceed it will be at great risk to the souls of all present.”

I barely managed to stifle my laugh behind my hand as I proceeded to take my seat at the table. “Let’s get this over with, these theatrics are exceedingly dull.”

“Do not tread lightly into the realm of the dead, young man. Great evil and disaster await those who do not heed their warnings.”

“Please, continue,” I said with a wave of my hand. “What is this great evil that you sense?” I fervently wished to see Sebastian’s expression, though I knew without a doubt that he would be still and stone-faced behind me. I could feel his presence like a warm second heartbeat in my chest.

The woman gestured for Lau to be seated and Ran-Mao took the third chair that stood between Lau and the spiritualist. The medium pointed above my head to Sebastian and then to the final empty chair.

When he didn’t move from his station I spoke. “The sooner we play our parts, the sooner we can leave this stuffy attic.” Sebastian pulled out the chair and sat with a flourish of his tail coat.

“Now,” she whispered, rolling her head on her petite shoulders, making some kind of dangling jewelry concealed beneath the scarf tinkle and clink together. “Now we will join hands to seek communion with those hidden beyond the veil of this mortal realm.”

Lau and Ran-Mao were already connected when he reached for my hand and she for the bejeweled digits of the medium. Sebastian dutifully clasped her other hand only to be rejected with a command of “Remove the gloves. We must have bare skin for contact.” Sebastian looked to me and I nodded. He removed his white gloves placing them neatly on the table before him. She held her hand out to receive his then looked pointedly at me waiting for me to take Sebastian’s empty hand, the hand that bore the mark of our contract. Even with the firm belief that the woman stringing us along like foolish puppets was a complete charlatan, I hesitated. I recalled that small spark of fire that passed between us in the study last night, the last time we had connected skin to skin.

Nothing for it, then. What’s a little supernatural nonsense between friends and confidence men?

I extended my fingers and latched onto his pale white hand. As soon as my skin slid over his I felt a jolt of pain travel up my arm, making the flesh tingle and my muscles twitch. The collective gasp in the room said that Sebastian and I were not the only two to experience it.

The medium rolled her head back and let out a hiss. “We are beyond the veil now. Spirits…spirits, I am an empty vessel awaiting your presence.” She continued to sway and moan but my eyes were fixed on the pale face by my side, his red eyes burning a hole straight through me.

“Katie tells me there is a spirit present. He wishes to speak…” her brow furrowed and I could read confusion on her features even under the scarf that obscured them. “I don’t understand you, spirit. What language are you speaking to me?”

Lau chose this moment to offer a brief phrase in Chinese and we turned to the medium to await a response. As expected, the medium did not respond in turn. I let out a huff of contempt just as Sebastian’s hand slid from mine and his head rolled down, chin against his chest, black hair falling to obscure his face. He growled a steady rolling sound that chilled me to my core. The medium had clawed the veil from her face and scooted her chair away from the table with such haste that she nearly upended the whole thing. The sound coming from the demon’s throat finally began to resemble some sort of pattern that Lau appeared to recognize with a curious tilt of his head. He listened silently.

“Well, what in the bloody hell is he saying?” I shouted. I looked from Lau to Sebastian and back again.

“Interesting,” Lau said.

“You will tell me what he’s saying!” I demanded.

“My, my. It seems like there was a spirit attached to the little jade cup, and he is an aggressive fellow.”

“Yes,” I said feeling exasperated and increasingly anxious as I saw the inhuman features appear on Sebastian’s face. I was thankful for the darkness of the room. “But what is he saying?”

“He says…” Lau paused, listening, trying to decipher the words from the steady stream of growling utterances. “Oh.”

“What, Goddamnit! What is he saying?”

“He says he’s taking your butler.”

And with that there was an audible pop as all of the building energy was sucked out of the room. A wave of sickness swept over me and I fell to my knees just as the candle gutted out in the back-draft.

When I stood, using the table to aid me, Lau held another lighted candle.

Sebastian was gone.


	21. Specter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You accept a great risk to attempt this foolish act.

I searched the room wildly, my heart in my throat, my head spinning. This can’t be happening. How could he simply be gone?  

“Sebastian!” I shouted. Fear was like a blade of ice in my heart.

“This is an interesting development,” Lau said. The medium was fearfully creeping closer to the stairway and Lau gestured to Ran-Mao who forcefully settled the woman back into her chair. “Where do you suppose he’s gone?”

The medium was shaking her head. Her eyes were glassy as she looked around the room as though she were seeing it for the first time.

I was getting more fearful by the second, and for me fear turned quickly to anger. I could no longer feel my attachment to the demon. The constant warmth of his presence was gone.

“Where are you? Sebastian, return to me! This is an order!” There was no response. I turned to the medium. “Where is he?!”

She kept shaking her head even as I shouted at her. I turned my anger on Lau, my physical aggression blocked by his petite body guard but my words striking him harshly.

“What else did he say, you bastard? This is entirely your fault! That blasted Chinese cup!”

“He said several things,” Lau said softly, completely unaffected by my outburst.  

“You will tell me!” I demanded. Ran-Mao grabbed my shoulders and held me as I attempted to fly at Lau, all sense gone from my panicking brain.

“Perhaps we should all sit back down again and attempt to make contact with Lord Butler.” Lau took his chair calmly.

The medium seemed to finally gain some sort of grasp on our current situation.

“Demon!” she shouted.

“Where has he gone, you witch?” I spat at her.

“That was no man!” she hissed.

“Madame,” Lau tried. “Can you help us find our missing friend?”

“Back to hell! He’s returned to the dark pits of damnation.”

“She is useless.”

As I said it, I realized that there was suddenly another person around the table. A young girl with dark hair braided down her back. The girl was looking at the medium with obvious concern until she was finally noticed. The medium began pleading with the girl.

“It was a demon, Katie! What has happened?”

I could see the girl clearly as anyone else around the table. I could see her mouth moving but could hear no voice. The medium, however, seemed to understand her.

“No, Katie! You must not go there! Do not traffic with the demons,” the medium said.

“You will take me there!” I shouted.

The specter turned to me when I spoke and appeared to be pleading with me, holding out her insubstantial hand to me, though I still could not hear her.

“Perhaps your spirit guide could take Earl Phantomhive beyond the veil?” Lau asked.

“No! It is not possible!” she cried out, horrified at the suggestion.

“I understand that you have objections, but I’m afraid these circumstances are becoming quite dire. You see, if you don’t assist the young Earl, there is no telling what might happen here tonight on this very real, _mortal_ plane,” Lau concluded.

Ran-Mao fetched one of the ornate, long opium pipes from the low tables beside Lau’s pile of silk cushions and began to work a ball of sticky resin into its bowl.

“Surely there is another way?” I asked. The last thing I wanted was to dull my senses at a time when I felt that I was under attack.

“I can think of no quicker way to reach beyond the veil, can you, Madame?”

“You accept a great risk to attempt this foolish act,” the medium said.

The spectral girl came to stand beside me as I took the vile pipe from Ran-Mao and placed it to my lips. Never having inhaled any substance into my lungs, I was immediately hit by the horrifyingly awful sensation of the smoke as it entered my body. The taste, the putrid, sweet taste hit me second, followed by the blissful and terrifying fog in my brain. I felt suddenly as if I was falling backward in my chair and sure enough, Lau and Ran-Mao lifted me and eased my useless body to the floor.

I felt a hand on mine and turned to see the specter, now vibrantly present, was clutching my hand. Her blue eyes danced in the dim light.

“Ciel?” she said softly.

“Please…” I said.

“I will help you, Ciel. Come with me.” She helped me up to stand and with a rush I realized that I was still on the floor. Or my mortal body was. I looked at myself, my eyes closed, my brow furrowed even at rest.

“Come, Ciel. I will help you,” she urged.

I stepped away from my body, clutching desperately to the girl’s small hand as she led me to the stairway. She stepped straight through the door, pulling me behind her, and I passed through the solid wood just as easily.

Instead of the narrow enclosed staircase leading to the street, the doorway led us to a corridor made of stone. The walls were damp and the air was thick with the smell of earth and decay.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“This is your journey. Perhaps you should tell me,” she answered enigmatically.

“This is nowhere familiar to me.”

We had come to the end of the corridor and stepped into a large vaulted room. All was dark and yet I could see clearly enough to make out each individual stone that made up the walls and floor of the room. There was one doorway with a large, heavy iron door.

“What is this place?” I asked.

Katie released my hand and walked to the door to inspect it closer.

“This is the entrance to a catacomb,” she said. “The door bears your family name.”

I took a closer look and immediately recognized the Phantomhive crest upon the door.

“But my family lies within the crypt on the grounds of the manor,” I said. Katie merely took my hand again, holding it firmly as she waited.

I opened the door, pulling the heavy metal back as if it were barely there, and gazed into the darkness beyond. We hesitated only a moment before entering.

A short set of worn stone steps brought us into the catacomb. The air here was dry and the darkness seemed to part before us as we walked as easily as the cobwebs that hung from the ceiling. Along the walls, stacked like cords of firewood, casually mingled but lovingly arranged were human bones. From floor to ceiling, packed together as tightly as the stone that encased the tomb. The bones ran on both sides for as far as we could see.

“Can these possibly be my ancestors?” I wondered out loud.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Look.” She pointed ahead to the first door within the catacomb. It was an ornately carved wooden door, far newer than the catacomb and completely untouched by the dust and decay around us. Set into the door was a shiny brass plaque that held the names: Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive.

“My parents?” I whispered.


	22. Memento Mori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why are you here little lamb? And why have you built this carnal house?

My spectral guide said nothing, waiting patiently at my side as I tried to reason out what could possibly be behind the door. I glanced both ways around the catacomb and saw nothing but darkness. I took a deep breath, clutching the warm hand in mine and lifted the latch that held the door closed.

Sunlight blinded me for a moment, but I recognized that my feet had moved from a cold, stone floor to a plush carpet and I could feel the warmth coming from the fireplace. We were in the manor house. This was home. This was the library and it was midmorning by the sunlight that came in through the southeast windows.

I blinked, clearing my eyes. My father was sitting in his leather chair, reading and drinking tea. Just as I had remembered him. I felt my chest ache as I looked at him.

“Father?” I approached the chair cautiously, not trusting this vision before me.

“You favor him,” Katie said with a sad smile. “He’s very handsome.”

“He’s not really here, is he? He can’t see me?”

“I believe this is only a memory.”

She pulled me closer to the chair, stepping in front of my father to see his face more clearly. Even when we were directly in front of the chair, my father didn’t seem to notice us. He turned the page of the newspaper and made a small noise in response to what he was reading. It made me smile, pulling me into my remembrances of him. He often spent the morning reading in the library and I had fond memories of winters at the manor when father was home.

The door behind him opened quietly and a woman with long, strawberry-blonde hair came through with a small child on her hip. The child wrapped his small, chubby fingers in her hair and she smiled down at him. My father looked up and his face lit up when he saw her. Her bright, blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight.

“Your mother?” Katie said. “And this little cherub must be you.”

They were perfect as they looked at each other, so obviously in love. My heart fractured as I watched my mother place the child into my father’s arms, but then I felt myself begin to withdraw. I began to feel nothing at all as I watched them, even as Katie continued to comment on how lovely they were.

“Why are we here?” I asked.  “If they can’t see us, there’s no point to this.”

I reached for the door that my mother had come through, not bearing to take another look at the happy family, and exited the room. To my surprise I was back in the corridor of the catacomb, surrounded by the darkness and the cold stone walls. I started walking, not knowing where I was meant to go, not waiting for Katie to catch up to me.

I hadn’t gone far before I was aware of a voice speaking closely to my side. The sound was faint at first, whispering, requiring my attention to pick out meaning from the individual sounds, but soon we were engaged in conversation, this voice and I.

“It is impossible to tell,” said the voice.

“What is?”

“So many things, but specifically, it is impossible to tell how far this corridor will go. Or where it will lead. That is what you wondered, is it no?”

“That doesn’t concern me at all,” I said.

“But do you not wonder where it is that you are going?”

“Not at all.”

I heard footsteps beside me now and caught the thinnest glimpse of a figure.

“You are something rare. I see no shadow in you though your exterior is burnt and blackened.”

“Nonsense.”

I walked faster, scanning the darkness for any change in the hallway, any indication that other rooms might exist. I had the distinct impression that I was traveling in circles. The voice was distracting me just enough that I couldn’t quite figure it out.

“You are like a diamond, pure and brilliant, but so hard and so cold to the touch.”

“Be gone, spirit and bother me no more,” I said.

I fought through the confusion and the creeping fear that was taking hold of my mind and took off the silk tie that was about my throat, the delicate fabric barely blue in the darkness, and placed it on the stone floor. If I passed this way again, I would know it.

The voice was stronger now as I walked, and the vision beside me became more solid by the second. Soon a fully materialized man was walking with me.

“Impossible to tell even if you attempt to blaze a path through here. The walls can change. Door can change,” he said.

I stopped walking and turned to regard him properly for the first time. My attention seemed to sharpen his hold on the material world. His perfectly symmetrical face smiled at me and it was a smile that I recognized. There was a knowing, sinister quality that paired with the unnaturally orange eyes to indicate that I was in the presence of the demonic.

“What do you mean? What is changing this catacomb?”

“Not what. Who,” he said with a tilt of his raven hair.

“Who then? Speak plainly, demon.”

“Why are you here little lamb? And why have you built this carnal house?” The demon regarded me curiously, his voice pure seduction.

“I’m looking for someone,” I said.

“Surely there is no one in this place for you. No one worth the dangers that lie ahead of you.”

Despite myself, I glanced forward into the darkness. It seemed to be thickening, collecting upon itself and absorbing all light that threatened to enter into its space. There was a heaviness that promised that something lay within, but there was no way to see through it.

“I have no choice,” I said, feeling the helplessness.

“Then let me help you. I can protect you,” he said, moving closer to snake an arm around my shoulders. The touch was comforting and warm and my body wanted to fold into him, begging for comfort, but my mind railed against him, holding onto my anger and submitting to the pain. My anger was my ally. My oldest friend.

“Do not presume to touch me, demon. I want nothing from you.”

“Impossible to tell what you truly want in a place like this,” the demon said. He pulled me closer, speaking softly into my ear.

“What I want is to find my butler.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Because he’s mine,” I said, pushing away from the creature who hung about my shoulders.

Footsteps behind us made me turn to see Katie’s sweet face emerging out of the shadows. She held a lit lantern above her head, casting its glow full upon the demon’s face. I could see how handsome he was, how he had formed himself into the perfection of a man, but the vision only angered me.

“Ciel, beware of that creature!” Katie said.

“That creature? Who do you think you are addressing, you little eidolon?” said the demon

“Do not speak to him. Do not look at him, Ciel. The more attention you give him the more power he has,” Katie said.

“I don’t intend to,” I said.

I stepped away from the demon and walked beside Katie as she continued down the hallway, her lantern lighting our way and parsing the darkness. Thinking about the nature of the corridor, the never-ending stone walls, the chill and the oppression of the unseen forces around us, was enough to cause a door to appear. The door was stone itself, carved many centuries ago with the symbols of death. The skull and bones of Memento Mori, and the phrase: _“Death, thou art but another birth, freeing the spirit from the clogs of earth.”_


	23. A Grave Undertaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When that strong hand released my head and took my other hip, both hands pulling roughly, slamming my small body against his loudly enough to hear the flesh slap, I began to repeat his name like a prayer.

With a deep intake of breath, I lifted the iron latch on the door and pushed it open. The sweet fragrance of death was immediately apparent as the door swung into the chamber. The room was warm and filled with the illumination of several lamps, situated for the task of funeral preparation. Caskets and urns of all sizes lined the walls, some occupied, some vacant and ready. I recognized this room and I recognized the figure that stood working over the body on the embalming table, though gray hair concealed his face from my view.

“Young Earl, I hadn’t expected you to come through that particular door,” said the Undertaker, not looking up from his work.

“I didn’t expect to see you here either,” I said.

“Has it happened then? Have you passed from this mortal coil? I have anticipated having your pretty body on my table for so long.”

“I am merely visiting here, Undertaker,” I said, hoping fervently that it was true. “Though I fear I may be lost.”

Katie clung to my side as we ventured into the room, closer to the strange man in black. She was obviously fearful of the Undertaker, more than she had been of the demon that still lurked in the corridor behind us.

“Lost? Even with this precious little guide you have here?” The Undertaker dropped his tools and came closer to us, regarding Katie through the veil of his hair. His scarred face contorted into a grin. “Which of my brothers let you slip through his grasp, pretty girl?” he asked with a hand clutching her small chin.

“Leave her be. She is of no concern to you,” I said. Katie gripped my hand tightly and sunk behind me and away from the Undertaker.

“No matter, Young Earl. I suggest you try the door through there,” he said, pointing through a set of tattered purple curtains. “And don’t forget to visit me again should you regain your mortal envelope.”

I took his advice and pulled Katie through the cluttered room, side-stepping the implements of the funeral business and unattended mortal remains, to reach the room beyond the purple curtains. The fabric was caked in cobwebs and dust, but parted easily to admit us to the next room.

This was a clean room, not part of the Undertaker’s shop at all. This was a kitchen, and it was warm and comfortable as we walked in. This was the small kitchen of the townhouse in London that we stepped into. However, I observed that I was already here. Or a version of myself was, anyway. I could feel my brain shifting uncomfortably as I watched myself, clad only in a long linen nightshirt, bare feet shuffling softly across the wooden floor. Sebastian was here, a version of him, in his trim waist coat with its gleaming watch chain and his shirt sleeves carefully rolled up to keep them clean while he worked.

He knew I was there, surely, though he gave no indication that he noticed my presence as he continued to work. His precise movement brought him around the room in a carefully coordinated ballet of movement that was entrancing to watch. Dishes came together, surfaces were cleaned, ingredients became glorious culinary creations fit for the Queen herself with minimal exertion from the skilled butler.

Even with my appreciation for the talent and the amount of work that was involved, I knew I was craving the release that only chaos could provide. I started by gently pushing the wire basket of eggs until they toppled off the edge of the sideboard and exploded across the clean floor. I stepped through the mess of sticky egg shells, kicking the basket and furthering the awful din that had ruined the quiet of the small kitchen, and laid hands upon the small canister of flour. Without any thought, I upended the container, letting the ceramic lid smash, and the contents coat the floor and my own bare legs.  I moved on to the pot of melted chocolate ganache, cooling on the counter, waiting to be poured onto some desert that I would never enjoy. I plunged my hand into the warm chocolate and then brought it to my face. I licked my fingers, smearing the sweet mixture of cocoa and cream across my mouth, letting it run down my arm in sticky streams.

It was then that Sebastian had finally had enough. Strong fingers wrapped around my wrist and roughly pulled my arm away from my greedy mouth and held it behind my back. He said nothing, but a low growl issued from his clenched teeth as he held me, pushing my stomach sharply against the wooden countertop until I could no longer move. I whined and wiggled in his grasp, but it only made him push me all the harder.  

The hem of my nightshirt was pulled abruptly up, exposing my naked backside which was soundly slapped by an open hand. I cried out in shock and pain, only to receive another resounding blow. My words begged for him to stop, to release me from my well-deserved punishment, but my hips spoke differently as they backed against his solid frame and requested further friction.  

It was ultimately my body he listened to. With very little prelude or warning, his endowment was pressed against me even as I pressed against the unforgiving wooden surface of the counter top. One hand held me down, my face ground into the surface of the wood, cheek smashed against the floured counter, while the other hand pulled against my hips as he slid into me like a knife meeting the constricting muscle of a beating heart.

He ignored my false pleading as he sought to slack his own angry desire, digging his blackened fingertips into the tender flesh of my ass, tearing at my thighs and squeezing my stomach as if he would ultimately pull me apart even as he drove into me. I cried and I railed against him, only to be held tighter, only to be punished more cruelly with every swift movement of his hips. My agony was the most exquisite cumulation of sensation and abject humiliation that I ever experienced.

When that strong hand released my head and took my other hip, both hands pulling roughly, slamming my small body against his loudly enough to hear the flesh slap, I began to repeat his name like a prayer.

My angel.

My savior.

My destroyer of worlds.

Deliver me from this cruel world and bring me peace.

Devour me until I am no more.

When it was over, when his seed was spent and my body was broken and bruised, he took me into his arms, covered me with black wings and created an impenetrable shelter against the world. I knew that feeling of protection and I craved it with every fiber of my being as I watched.

My first instinct was not embarrassment that Katie had witnessed this secret, sinful moment, but was an intense outpouring of longing and I almost said the other word to myself, stopping short of naming my demonic infatuation. Katie said nothing, only clutched my hand with the same care and acceptance that I had known from her since we began our journey.

All was silent as the vision faded. My resolve, however, had only grown stronger. I knew that I had to fulfil my purpose in this realm and I knew that I ultimately had to return to the material world and that I wasn’t willing to do that without Sebastian.  


	24. Back from the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You followed me to hell,” said that sonorous voice.

“Out the back kitchen door, I suppose,” I said. My voice was rough with emotion and no small amount of desire from what we had witnessed, but my resolve was strong as I pulled Katie through the messy kitchen to the door that would lead us to the back exit of the London townhouse if we were in the mortal realm. What we saw, of course, was the persistent and perpetual stone corridor of the catacomb. This time it wasn’t one solitary voice that purred in my ear, but a chorus. They had been alerted to my presence here and the malevolent shades wanted me, each for their own prize. Each spoke with a different voice, but all held that same seductive timber that I knew so well. I recalled what Katie had said, and paid them little heed as I walked.

Don’t acknowledge them. Don’t look. Certainly don’t listen.

The next door opened directly to my left, an ossuary filled with the bodies of the recently deceased. Damp, dark and uninviting. I considered for only a moment before entering the room of decay. We walked among the bodies and the bones, stepping over the burial shrouds and moldering cloth with little consideration until we reached a solid mahogany door.

The brass handled door was familiar yet out of place in this room of death. I depressed the handled and passed into my own study at the Phantomhive manor. Though the scene was very mundane- a glum young man sitting at his desk, contemplating work- I could tell immediately what day this memory was from.

So many cases. So much work caused by so many evil people. The world was a lost cause as far as I was concerned and on days like these I certainly wanted no part in it. But what was the alternative? Should I bow out now? End my quest for revenge and take my well-deserved seat in hell?

How would I do it? A bullet to the brain, perhaps? That seemed simple enough. Difficult to make one’s finger depress the trigger. Self-preservation is a deeply engrained instinct in us humans. Though it would likely be over quickly once the initial shock occurred.

Then there would be a mess, but Sebastian would take care of that. Thinking of my blood staining his clean white gloves made me smile darkly to myself.

But I was too selfish to end my own existence. I didn’t want to give that satisfaction to my enemies, of which there was an ever increasing number. I would have to suffer though this life with the lot I was given and with the choices I had made.

Some chocolate might sweeten the sorrow. I reached for the bell pull, but Sebastian had already appeared in the doorway carrying a tray with tea.

“Something sweet to go with the tea,” I said. He set down the tray and poured tea into the porcelain cup.

“I think not, my Lord. You’ll spoil your dinner,” the butler said.

I pondered his pleasantly neutral features, thinking how absurd it was to worry over dinner when one’s gray matter could easily be seeping into the carpet and one’s blood might be painting the wall by that time.  

Yet, from the expression in his strange, other-worldly eyes, I think he knew the darkness in my mind, but still he dared to antagonize me in this small, petty way. Was this the true evil of a demon? Not the grand scheme to oppose God, but a cumulative work of small torments and missed opportunities that created a malevolent presence on earth? Surely not.

A smile cracked his otherwise stony expression and he turned and left me alone again with my thoughts. I sipped my tea, not caring what it tasted like, still cultivating my gray mood when I misplaced the cup upon my desk causing the pale liquid to spill on some paperwork. Cursing, I picked up the napkin to sop up the mess. A single piece of chocolate was hidden there, beneath the starched fabric. I picked it up with curiosity and almost felt a flash of happiness. Had he known my mind, then? One piece of sugary confection to combat a bullet? It worked well enough.

The memory faded as quickly as it came, leaving me with an uneasy feeling though I could almost taste the sweetness of the chocolate on my tongue. Katie took my hand and pulled me through the next door, which should have led through the manor toward to solarium, but in fact brought us back out into the stone corridor.

The voices rejoined us, louder than ever before. They swam around me, pleading with me, offering me every temptation. I kept walk, my eyes shut, trusting in Katie to lead me on.

The door that we found was shiny and black with red writing inlaid on the surface in some language or symbolism that I couldn’t understand. It was perfectly flawless and completely alien against the organic texture of the stone surrounding it. I touched the smooth surface and felt that it was hot and pulled my hand back.

“We should not enter through this door, Ciel. Nothing good lies behind a door with this much demonic writing,” Katie said.

I pulled the latch as she began to pull me back, and I shrugged her off. The room beyond was hot and the air was thick with a cloying smoke. There was a scent that was instantly familiar to me. Burning leaves and red wine. Spiced cake and new leather. Fire and death. I knew that scent.

I slid completely out of Katie’s grasp and lost myself in the haze of the room. Something dark was falling around me like black snow, brushing against my skin and crunching softly beneath my feet. Feathers, I realized, feeling their silky touch.

A single figure was hunched on the floor, bound in chains. Smaller than I would have expected and vulnerable in his prison. My Sebastian. Another step closer and he stirred, sensing my presence, sending another rush of feathers into the air from the great black wings folded on his back.

Was this really him? Or was this another illusion?

“Sebastian?” I said softly.

His head rose and a pair of glowing red eyes found me. Obsidian horns curled up from his brow, but the face remained familiar to me. In the stony countenance I saw a glimmer of recognition and I dared to step closer, close enough to reach out a trembling hand to touch the pale, white cheek of the demonic angel carved from marble and jet.

He struggled against his chains but could not stand or move from the crouched position in which he had been confined. A deep growl emanated from his throat and I pulled back my hand.

But it wasn’t me he growled at. There was another presence in the room.

“You,” a voice hissed. “The brat. The little pest. The child with the temper.”

“And you,” I said, forcing strength into my voice. “The vindictive spirit that has fed off my household and ruined my life.”

“Calm yourself, child. Your anger has no power here. We are on a level battle field.”

“Then show yourself, fiend!”

Sebastian struggled against his bounds sending a flurry of black feathers into the air, stirring the smoke, stinging my eyes. The sounds he made were inhuman and painful, but my relief was palpable, even seeing him in pain. He was here. I had found him.

Out of the haze came a solitary figure. He had red skin, blackened by the fires of hell. Teeth from a nightmare and tusks like a wild animal. The figure that stood before me was no minor spirit but some kind of malevolent entity born of pure malice and centuries of human misdeeds. I took a step back in spite of myself at the sight of him. To her credit, Katie stood strong behind me, her presence flaming boldly against the opposition, offering me her light.

“You will release him, spirit,” I commanded.

“Why would I want to do that?” he asked, cocking his grotesque head to the side. “It’s rare to capture a demon as powerful as this, yet somehow you kept him on a leash. Tell me, brat, how did you gain that power?”

“I have much power. You are about to discover what it means to be in opposition of an Earl of Phantomhive.” I declared. My anger flooded me with every assurance I required.

The spirit laughed, an unnatural sound that echoed around the stone chamber. “You have no power here, little one. You are a wisp of a personality merely visiting this plane.”

“Oh?” I said.

I recalled what the demon of temptation in the corridor had told me about building this world. With a careful thought, I shifted us from the stone crypt of the catacomb to my study in London. When the flickering vision settled, I calmly strode to the book shelf to retrieve the cursed jade cup that was home to all of this torment.

“Shall we discuss power?” I asked, glancing from the fragile cup to the fuming spirit. “Or do you suppose you might return my butler to me?”

“I will have blood! I will have pain!” the spirit cried, looking around the room wildly for an avenue of escape.

“Not from me, you won’t.”

“I will be fed…” he faltered, weakening.

“I will feed you, spirit. But first, you will return what is mine.”

A warm hand rested on my shoulder, claws pressing gently into my incorporeal flesh. The wave of relief washed through me was nearly overwhelming and I closed my eyes to savor it for a brief moment before speaking again.

“The object of your revenge is a man by the name of Thomas Crawford. Whatever injustice you have suffered at the hands of others, whatever sins have to be atoned for, this man is guilty of them all. It is through his suffering that you will find peace.”

“Crawford?” The spirit said, his inhuman mouth struggling to form the sounds of the name.

“This is the man who robbed your tomb. The man who stole the chrysanthemum cup.”

“Yes…” the spirit nodded, rolling the thought around in his mind.

“Stay close to me, serve me, and when the time comes, you can have Crawford,” I said.

“Yes. Yes, Crawford. I agree with your terms, brat,” the spirit said. I ignored the slight yet again.

“Katie, we’re ready to leave this place. Can you help us back?” I held out my hand to the pretty, patient girl. She nodded with a confident smile, avoiding the demon who now stood behind me, close and comfortable like a shadow.

A door opened beside the fireplace and Katie led us through. Instead of the townhouse foyer, or the eternal stone corridor of the catacomb, we were at the bottom of the enclosed wooden stairs that led to Lau’s private apartments. The scent of opium immediately hit my nostrils and I was almost glad of it.

The three of us, human, demon and spirit, ascended, passing through the closed door without needing to touch the knob, and saw the room where my small, unconscious body lay on the floor, head propped up with silk pillows. Lau lounged nearby, toking thoughtfully on his long pipe while he toyed with the hem of Ran-Mao’s short dress. The medium still sat in her chair, face as white as death, but she looked up as we entered the room.

“Katie!” she cried, standing up quickly enough to overturn her chair, starting Lau out of his quiet contemplation.

Sebastian held my hand as I carefully moved toward my body again. His face still framed by a fearsome set of horns and his hands still tipped with claws. His raven wings brushed my arms gently as I settled down to the floor. Before I let go, before I leapt back to the corporeal world, I held his gaze and wanted to say the words that my heart was pulsing through my entire being. The smile that curved his black lips told me he already knew.

“You followed me to hell,” said that sonorous voice.

I lie back and let the physical world snap back around me with painful tightness and clarity. The sensation was an unholy combination of plunging into frigid water and being laced into a too-tight corset. I sat up gasping air into my lungs in painful mouthfuls. Sebastian knelt at my side, one hand on my back and the other holding a clean handkerchief to my mouth as I coughed. Back for thirty seconds and already one hell of a butler.

“Well,” said Lau. “That was interesting. I shall have to sit in on more séances in the future if they’re this entertaining.”


	25. Réunis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can’t tell where I end and he begins and I don’t dare open my eyes to see the chaos we have unleashed upon this quiet world.

Walking into the study of the townhouse was completely surreal after having made the journey in whatever form I previously held. The world seemed to exist in a sharper focus then I could stand and I knew I faltered on my feet by the way that Sebastian kept his hand against my low back, guiding me until I finally took a chair. Even then, he stayed within arm’s reach, watching me silently.

The chrysanthemum cup had returned to the bookshelf, waiting for its ultimate fate. I thought for a moment of the vengeful spirit and just that flicker of acknowledgement was enough to make me feel his presence.

What could be done? I had made another bargain with the invisible to get what I wanted and I would have to live with the consequences of my actions.

What I wanted.

I focused my gaze upon the butler who knelt beside my chair. My captive creature with a claim to my soul and now my heart. It was all too apparent that this was the case. I was lost, body and soul to his seduction.

“You realize that had I been trapped, that our contract would have expired? You could have been free of me,” he said quietly.

“I do.”

“But you risked your life and your soul to release me.”

“You would have gotten free on your own. At some point.”

“After years of imprisonment, perhaps,” he admitted.

“So stop making a big deal about it. It was nothing,” I lied.

The demon smiled knowingly but said nothing.

“Shall I bring tea?” he asked, still kneeling with a hand across his breast.  

“No. I think not. I think…” I started and then stopped.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“I think I don’t want you out of my sight,” I said.

“You may regret that,” he said. That smile again. The faint curve of lip that drive me quietly insane.

“Hardly. Have you any idea what manner of demon I encountered there? Do you know what I was promised if only I would release my soul? There is no end to the treachery of your kind.” I paused and tried to breathe. “However, you can have me. Destroy me. Devour me. I don’t care. Just please, don’t leave me.”

“Until the very end. I shall not leave your side.” Without hesitation he promised.

What followed was an unspoken collision of bodies and blood. Frustration and release. Desperation and desire. There was no further resistance from my ego as I collapsed into his arms, my mouth finding his and tasting him as deeply as I was able.

Still kneeling on the floor, his hands now on the arms of my chair, he lifted his body to reach me as I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso as though I could melt into him if I squeezed hard enough. Sebastian lifted me easily from the chair to settle on his lap as he sat back on his heels, never once taking his lips from mine.

The air in my lungs sighed from my mouth into his. Nothing frantic, nothing hurried. An eternity to spend in this moment, protected by the strong arms that could so easily destroy me.

But chose not to.

A being that could be anywhere but chose to be here, serving me.

His mouth was on my throat, hot and sharp, not biting but tasting, savoring, waiting for the moment when the skin would eventually give under the pressure. The anticipation making his hands clench against my back, made his fingers pull on my hair until my head craned back, exposing more of my throat.

When I could stand no more, I pressed myself against him until his teeth tore into me, ripping the skin, sending a wave of pain through me that was so intense that I must have screamed. He began to pull away, perhaps fearful of hurting me, but I firmly pressed his head back against my neck.

“For the love of god, don’t stop,” I rasped.

The quietest laugh against my skin before his teeth clamped down and his arms constricted me. I let my body relax, becoming a broken doll in his arms. My blood was hot and thick, streaming down my skin faster than he could consume it, though he tried, his tongue working furiously to contain the flood of warmth that escaped around his lips. I could do nothing but tremble as that sharp-edged pleasure tore through me. God help me, but I loved it when he hurt me.

In his arms now, he carried me like a child, like he would carry me when I was young and sickly, before I gained my modest height and strength. We ascended the stairs, still exchanging kisses and caresses, faces pressed close together in breathy silence. Nestled into the quiet softness of my bed, I fell back into oblivion with this dark incubus above me, gentle yet vicious, whispering promises of pleasure into my burning ear.

With clothing as forgotten as social rank and status, my body refused to be still and required the steady restraint of his hands holding mine above my head. As Sebastian gazed down at me, I felt the flare of our spiritual guest, burning brightly from the energy in the room. Sebastian turned too, a growl in his throat.

“Ignore him,” I pleaded. “There’s nothing for it. He’s stuck with us for now.”

All our days we strive for some undiscovered place like a green shoot struggling up from the earth towards the sun. The instinct is for life, to survive and thrive, but when the mind is damaged by past trauma, the instinct is broken. The attraction is to death, blood, danger and pain. I cannot help myself. All instinct for self-preservation dissolves at his touch. I have no interest in the sun or its warmth. No love of life beyond my ability to feel with this mortal frame.

The desire goes beyond physical pleasure. The need to be satisfied is not a hunger of the body. Not entirely. I know this because I felt it there still when I had no body; no limbs to grasp with, no mouth to taste with and no capacity to connect with my most obvious appendage of desire. That need was still present when I saw him, even in his demonic form. His true form. Or maybe because of it, I felt that hunger that hurt so badly it pulled me inside out.

Is this love? Can this be what mere mortals feel for one another? Surely the world would stop upon its axis each and every time another couple fell upon each other in love. Surely the world would end. The apocalypse would be upon us.

No. There is something unnatural here as I drink the darkness from deep inside of him as I feel the claws scrape across my skin and my skin separate from my body. My blood is hot but his mouth is even hotter. I can’t tell where I end and he begins and I don’t dare open my eyes to see the chaos we have unleashed upon this quiet world.

Consciousness slips from my body as I expire, casting the evidence of my pleasure across his greedy and disastrously handsome face. My last vision before my eyes flutter closed is of the wicked smirk as an inhuman tongue reaches out to taste what he’s been given.

Morning finds me with a screaming pain in my head but warm comforting arms enclosing my aching body. I don’t question or worry, only allow myself to rest and to be held as I wait for the world to come into better focus.

“I couldn’t leave,” Sebastian says as I begin to stir. Not ‘I didn’t’ or ‘I shouldn’t’. Not making an excuse for his inappropriate behavior by remaining in my bed, but explaining that there was simply no other choice. I say nothing but remain in my place against his chest. A hand touches my face, brushing hair back from my forehead, moving to my throat, testing the damage there.

“Are you unwell?” he asks carefully.

I turn to face him, seeing the marble face contort slightly, showing a hint of concern.

“Is this significant?” I ask, recalling his words and repeating them back to him from inches away.

There’s a pause before he answers as his eyes search my face and then lock onto mine. “Yes.”

“But it’s still not right,” I admit. Just thinking it shakes the spirit to life again and I can sense him hovering about us.

“No.”

Sebastian removes himself from my grasp and gets out of the bed. There’s dried blood on his hand that he casually licks clean as he regards me. “This can’t happen again. Not while that spirit still remains. I’ve come too close to killing you once again and my restraint is simply not that good.”

I let out an exasperated sigh and lay back against my pillow looking at the ceiling as though my next line may be painted there.

When I say nothing he leaves the room and begins his duties for the day as though we hadn’t been in hell only twelve hours before and then in heaven sooner still. Or as close as we’ll ever know. Still, what else is there to do? After all, what’s normal for the head of the Phantomhive family is nowhere near ordinary. Nothing left but to read my correspondences and drink my tea while my butler prepares me for the rest of the day.


	26. Cairo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t trifle with me, Sebastian. I am in no mood.”

“My, Lord,” Sebastian spoke softly, breaking me from my thoughts. He held a silver tray with my evening correspondence. Picking up the silver opener, I sliced through the scarlet seal that told me this was a message from the Queen. My fingers burned to touch it. So detached was I from thoughts of my duties that I couldn’t make my eye focus on the words before me. A deep breath reigned in my intention and I read the message.

"Dearest Earl,

Our sources tell us that a stalemate has been reached with our current investigation. We understand that the object of your attention has fled England and may be working somewhere in the Far East, possibly gaining more resources that may work against us. We wish to have your opinion on this matter.

-V"

I folded the letter and set it back on the tray. My attention had already reverted back to its internal focus and Sebastian’s voice brought me around again.

“Sir, there is one other letter for you. Would you care to read it now?”

I glanced back at the tray and saw the letter he referred to. Not an envelope at all, but a note scratched onto a scrap of paper and folded with little care. I picked it up and straightened out the page, trying to make sense of what I looked at. The handwriting was positively atrocious.

“What the devil is this?”

“If I may?” Sebastian gestured and I handed him the letter. It had already wasted enough of my time. My gaze drifted to the fireplace while the butler pondered the note.

“I believe this is what the spiritualists refer to as automatic writing. It’s a communication of a spirit through the hand of a medium. Usually, the non-dominant hand is used to help assure that he spirit is controlling the message.”

“That explains the ghastly handwriting,” I said, boredom no doubt evident in my voice.

“Shall I read it to you?”

“If you like. I can’t imagine what else the dead could possibly say to me.”

“It says: ‘ _I will help you, Ciel. I will help you. The bad man, the man who has stolen and has made the spirit very angry, he is making a disturbance again. You must go to Egypt now. Go to Cairo with your demon and the spirit and I will help you.’_ It’s signed simply with a letter K.”

“Hmph,” I didn’t know what to make of the message. Was I to believe that the sweet spectral guide was sending me a communication? But who else truly knew the extent of the situation? My mind flashed to Lau, but even this seemed a bit too ridiculous for his taste. “Well, I suppose we go to Egypt.”

I looked up at Sebastian’s still face, finding no reassurance there. He folded the strange note and placed it back on the tray. With a slight bow he took his leave and left me to my silent contemplation.

It was easy enough to book passage on a steamer leaving England and bound for Port Said and from there to take a train along the canal until we finally reached Cairo. I admit that I was intrigued by the idea of seeing the famed pyramids, tucked into the desert among the dry winds of history. Dusk had fallen by the time the train pulled into the central station and we were immediately surrounded by a glimmering oasis that was the city of Cairo. Unfamiliar with this territory, I was surprised to see how European both the surroundings and the crowds were. I followed Sebastian out of the station and into a carriage bound for our accommodations, already feeling uneasy at how close to the surface the spirit was now that we had touched these curious sands.

I deliberately neglected to contact Florence Cook, the medium who Lau had employed and the supposed keeper of the spirit, Katie, not wishing for any more of her spiritualist claptrap. I felt certain that if the need arose, Katie would endeavor to help me in any way that she was able. Why should distance matter to the insubstantial? She was as much use to me in England as she would be here.

The hotel Sebastian had chosen was as English as any establishment I had ever resided in. Only the occasional depiction of a palm tree or a pyramid in the décor gave a hint at our location once we were secured behind the gilded doors. Once the porter brought our luggage to the suite, I felt so unbelievably exhausted that I had no option but to submit to sleep while Sebastian made preparations for the coming days.

Fury and anger to be so interrupted when I should be alone. Were you always this noisy before? Did you always hang about me like a shroud? He was in my mind, haunting my thoughts. Where could I go to escape?

But we’re in Cairo finally and I knew that a resolution was in sight if I could catch that thieving bastard. Even now, Sebastian was loose upon the city, seeking information that would lead us to Crawford. In my mind, I saw the demon perched upon roof ledges, encased in dark shadows, lurking like a nightmare in the dark and creeping back to me in the early morning hours.

The spirit spoke to me. Not in words but in ideas that were not my own. Inclinations to see and impulses to touch that were not my will. Sebastian seemed to sense when I was not myself with more accuracy than I could myself. His distance was maddening, but I knew it was a necessary sacrifice. It seemed that every time we touched there was some life-threatening mishap. As fascinated as I was with the idea of death and as romanced as I was with the promise of peace, I was not ready to submit when Crawford still walked the earth. But his time was running short.

The hotel room was not as comfortable as my rooms in the townhouse, but it was lushly appointed and lacked nothing significant. Through the adjoining room, Sebastian knocked softly on the door before entering my room with a tray of tea.

“Good morning, young master.”

“Is there any point in asking whether this country has any palatable tea?”  I asked, smelling the bitter fragrance as soon as Sebastian brought it into the room.  

“Apologies, my Lord. This Ceylon was all the hotel had to offer. I neglected to bring a supply with us when we departed with such haste.”

I grunted my displeasure but accepted the cup. Even the China was substandard.

“What have you learned?” I asked. My mind hadn’t drifted far from the task at hand. How could it with the spirit hanging from me like a lead weight about my neck?

“I have learned much, my Lord, though little that pertains to Mr. Crawford. This is a city with many secrets and a large number of thoroughly corrupted characters.”

“So you have nothing useful to tell me?” I sighed out my frustration and took another disappointing sip of tea.

“I didn’t say that, sir.”

“Don’t trifle with me, Sebastian. I am in no mood.”

His smirk told me that he had no intention of making my morning easy. I couldn’t help but wonder what he had been doing out in the darkness of this strange city full of ‘thoroughly corrupted characters’ and what sort of secrets he sought to uncover. A starving demon in a place like this was almost certainly a horrible idea. Unfortunately for me, it was all I had. He was all I had.

“There is a tomb where we might find him, but it’s a bit of a trek across the desert. Are you prepared for that?”


	27. Dusk Calls Forth Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Calm yourself, demon. This human’s time has not come. We have no desire to harm him.”

These shifting sands exist entirely outside of time. What other substance could so perfectly mask the effects of an insubstantial civilization and an inconsequential animal such as man so wholly and completely? The expanse of desert was enough to swallow and extinguish the fragile lights of Cairo, effectively destroying any remainder of the living as we traveled to the realm of the dead.

Dressed in black from toe to head, I became as much a part of the shadows as my demonic companion. Thinking it best to arrive with the least amount of fanfare, and thus maintaining the element of surprise, I allowed Sebastian to carry me to the tomb where Crawford’s men did their late night work. The faint glow of an oil lamp was the only signal that any nefarious persons were about in the desert though Sebastian seemed convinced that the darkness was active and engaged with evil.

“It isn’t only Crawford working within these tombs. Robbers and thieves abound, my Lord. And other things,” Sebastian said. His unease worried me more than his words. It seemed that Egypt was not a quiet place for my demon butler. We would do best to conclude our business and make haste for the English coast as soon as possible.

As we approached the flickering lantern, a stone entryway appeared in the sand, its edges worn by countless centuries, gaping its secrets to the night. A stone-hewn shaft led down into the waiting darkness of the tomb. Sebastian set me down on the sand, a chill wind sweeping through, brushing past us like a specter. I looked at the demon’s face and registered no comfort there.

I reflected on the fact that I spent more time descending into burial chambers than most living men, but as a Phantomhive, such unsavory tasks were often expected. It hardly was enough to deter me from my plans, nor did the dead frighten me. I found the living to be far more dangerous in most instances.

The entrance brought us into a small stone chapel, a mortuary area where priests must have made their offerings to the deceased housed within the tomb. The walls were painted but faded by the relentless march of centuries. A bas-relief adorned a stone ledge against the outside wall where the tomb raiders had carelessly placed their packs and tools along with another lantern, glowing fitfully in a draft from the open door.

“It’s a mastaba, this space here,” a voice said; so sweet and soft, I recognized Katie instantly. “And the souls of the dead, the so-called vital principle is known as ‘ka’. The offerings are made to them here,” she said.

I nodded my appreciation for the information with a smile but kept silent. She seemed to understand and continued to swirl about me in excitement. The veil must be thin here. I could almost see her in the currents of the hot dry air.

“There are four men ahead, perhaps another 40 feet down this passage and to the chamber on the right. Please be careful, Ciel. There is also something else in this tomb.”

At her last warning, Sebastian placed a hand on my shoulder squeezing it lightly. Somehow I knew better than to speak despite my natural inclination to verbally assault whatever entity stood in my way. But what was making the demon so nervous?

Another voice, oddly familiar now, was in my head. “Brat Earl, where are we? What sort of place have you brought me to?”

I silently willed the spirit to silence, hearing Katie echo my silent pleas for quiet while I tried to listen at the entrance to the stone passage way that would lead me to Crawford. Somehow my grasp on the material world was slipping around me. My breath was heavy in my chest and my head began to feel light. I thought for a moment that I might actually faint. Sebastian stood close, hand still on my shoulder, his chest now pressed against my back. Gathering my strength, I pushed myself through the entrance to the tomb, that dark tunnel down which my fate seemed to lie.

The underworld is no place for the young. Even someone with a soul as old and as heavy as mine, the trauma of seeing the veil between this mortal reality so easily lifted weighed on my sanity. I found myself facing the mysterious realm that no living being was meant to face, demonic protector clutching my mortal frame so tightly that he threatened to press the very life from me for fear of letting me go. The oppressive scent of fire and sulfur burned my lungs and throat as I struggled for air. The desert heat wrapped around me like a cloak of fire and choking ash. I vomited and spat, trying to keep my tenuous hold on consciousness but allowing Sebastian to keep me upright and supported while I struggled to survive the trip.

A voice cut through the haze and I recognized it immediately for its otherworldly quality before I registered that the language was unknown to me. Sebastian growled and I could feel the sound as it rumbled through my body. My sense returned to me with painful clarity and I saw Katie standing before me, clear as day, panic on her sweet features as her arms reached out to me. I found that I couldn’t move to touch her. Sebastian still kept me pinned against his solid chest afraid to let me go for fear that I would slip away from him somehow.

“Can you hear me, Ciel?” Katie’s voice came through the ringing in my head.

“Yes. What’s happening?”

“They have pulled us through,” Katie said.

My mind struggled with the question of who "they" could possibly be, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I twisted in Sebastian's grasp until he finally released me and I stood on my own.

So many times in my short existence on this planet have I faced death; not only at mortal hands, but by the whims of both minor and significant preternatural beings. Even at the hands and teeth of my own knight and protector. I’ve been in the presence of the servants of Death, the very beings meant to account for souls and curate lives at the point of departure from this ephemeral state. I’ve been dead myself on perhaps more than one occasion. However, as I sank into the hot, dry darkness beyond that desert night, I knew that I was in the presence of something older and far removed from my human experience.

I looked from Katie, my sweet girl, to Sebastian with his cunning red eyes, lidded and wary as he took in our surroundings, and I realized that we maintained some kind of physical form where ever we were. Katie reached her small hand to wrap around mine and the contact felt warm and solid. Sebastian had released me but hovered within arm’s reach as I moved further into the stone enclosure.

A fire of a grand scale burned in a deep pit before us and a sickly sweet smell cut through the smoke like thick incense or burning hardwood with some kind of fragrant sap snapping and bubbling inside. The orange light bounced off the carved stone surrounding the flames, giant sculpted creatures with the bodies of men and the heads of beasts. The figures were largely unfamiliar to me, but they conveyed the poise and dignity of gods.    

The sight of them was another rift in my reality, but for all I could tell they were real and substantial. My body may have felt completely strange to me and my mind just as uncertain, but what I saw appeared to be solid and real. My grasp on Ciel Phantomhive, however, was slipping through my fingers as quickly as grains of dry sand. 

Before us, horrible and beautiful, illuminated solely by the leaping flames of a massive fire was a titan, a female with an eagle’s wings folded on her naked back. Her skin was gold and bronze in the flickering light. Her eyes were flecks of obsidian, still and lifeless except for the reflected movement of the flame. Beautiful and horrible at once. 

Surely, this cannot be real.

Sebastian bristled beside me like a raven disturbed, wings flexing, feathers rustling and claws extended towards my flesh as he encircled me again. His steady presence brought me back to myself long enough to hear and understand the voice that issued from the statue.

“Calm yourself, demon. This human’s time has not come. We have no desire to harm him.”

Somehow I am precious cargo to be protected at all times. Despite my constant brushes with danger over the recent years, I sense Sebastian has an even greater need to protect me from all unnatural things that seek to do me harm or take me from him. 

“This soul belongs to me,” Sebastian said.

“I hear you, demon,” the statue’s voice cracked through the chamber like a peal of approaching thunder. “Though you seem to sense how tenuous your claim of ownership is.”

“We have a contract,” Sebastian retorted.

“That is a very human concept, demon. You know how much value it truly has. However, we can see why you are so fiercely protecting this one.”

There was a sudden gust of air as the wings on the statue’s back extended and flexed, lifting the figure gracefully into the air. The carved body came to rest in front of me, crouched down with one hand to the stone floor and one monstrously large hand stretched out towards me as it seemed to take a closer look at me.

“You are something special, little one,” the winged creature said.

The breath of an ancient god swirled through my pink, mortal lungs, burning until my whole body was a mass of pain. Her voice reverberated through me with a stroke of god-like power nearly bringing me to my knees. I squared my shoulders, taking in another lungful of the hot dry air and took a step forward.

“I seek an audience if you would hear me,” I said as loudly and clearly as I could manage though my voice sounded weak as it echoed around the vastness of the chamber. It took a moment, but the female figure seemed to hear my voice and responded, slowly turning the head upon her massive shoulders.

“Speak, child. We will hear you.”

My mind was still and calm as I looked at the immortal beings before me. I waited, feeling Katie shifting beside me. Time had slowed to a mere trickle of minutes passing like drips of water trying to erode a stone. Katie’s energy poured into mine. Something about this place made it possible to share space with the spectral girl, her knowledge joining mine so that when I next spoke, I was using some of her words.

“We offer you the opportunity to claim a very dark soul. This man has committed many crimes and is indeed with in this very tomb unlocking doors, upending Canopic jars and breaking apart the sarcophaguses within which the peaceful dead strive to rest.”

“We are aware of this presence,” the goddess spoke.

“This man has greatly wronged the spirit who you see writing with fury here beside me. He has stolen from countless tombs, shrines and other holy places with no regard other than his own gain. His crimes have carried over to the world of the living, gaining the attention of English law as he has killed without discretion or thought beyond his own greed. He has poisoned people with drugs to further fill his pockets. My Queen has tasked me with putting an end to this man and that is why I have followed him to this place and why I am now asking humbly for your help.”

There was a silence once I finished speaking and the echo of my voice continued to reverberate around the room, slowly dissipating into nothing. I could feel Katie’s movements inside of my head as she sought to make sense of the beings before us. No words came from her, only a series of images; pages from books, glimpses of strange animals and stranger looking creatures with the features of both humans and beasts. I let myself fall into her thoughts, terrified and drifting without anything to anchor myself until Sebastian touched my shoulder, grounding me. I glanced back at the demon, but his eyes were on the goddess who stirred again, her voice rumbling from within her massive stone body.

“You are fortunate in your decision to come to us, little one. We will judge this soul and offer punishment if it is found lacking. You will bring us the heart of this man and place it here upon the scale.” The winged goddess turned her head slowly to regard a large scale with two golden plates balanced on either end of a long wooden arm. The entire contraption was twice as tall as I, and heavily ornamented with gold and shining enamel, covered in strange symbols that I couldn’t begin to understand.  

“I will bring you his heart. I will be glad to do that. Thank you,” I said, bowing deeply and backing away from the group of beings as though I were leaving an audience with the Queen. They seemed to have settled into an unnatural silence and stillness that made me question whether I had seen movement at all; only the light of the fire was flickering about the chamber.

Once we left the chamber, the world began to shift around me again. Sebastian took hold of me, prepared to keep me on my feet, but this time the veil slid over me as though it were a soft bit of fabric being pulled from my eyes. With a shiver shaking my body, I blinked and looked around the stone passageway and saw that we were still within the tomb.

“Sebastian,” I said letting the barest of smiles curve my lips.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“It’s time to find Crawford and cut out the bastard's heart.”


End file.
